


loss has a wider choice of directions

by orphan_account



Series: along the invisible curve [4]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4th in "along the invisible curve"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_~ what did I do to upset you so much  
that you lost control of your heart ~_  
\- Blue Eyed Son - When I Come Home

 

Sunday was one of the days they just used to laze around, study if there were exams coming up, meet up to maybe walk around town, or play computer games together. It was the day to wake up together, definitely.

There was something about waking up together that made a shiver run down Johnny's spine, a kind of intimacy that went so deep that he could barely breathe thinking about it. It was the good kind of shiver, the kind that made his stomach flip and his toes curl with content warmth. It was the kind of feeling he didn't want to let go, the kind of feeling he desired to box and keep in his hands forever so that every time he was upset, he could touch it and get the glow back.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. It wasn't that easy at all and looking at Stéphane's calm, peaceful face, the crisp spots at the corners of his eyes where tears had dried, he thought that it couldn't be this fucking hard to make a decision.

And then, he felt a spike of hate, because it was Stéphane's fault for making him have to choose in the first place. This wasn't his problem. He had enough problems of his own. He didn't need to be burdened with a fucking choice that would tear them apart one way or the other. He wanted his own happy place back, one of those that people talked about, that they retreated to when they were hurting: the problem was, Stéphane _was_ his happy place, and right now, that was lost, too.

Johnny swallowed and swallowed down the hate inside and shoved the thoughts away. Stéphane hadn't wanted him to know. Stéphane had tried to keep it from him, not that he'd done a very good job keeping up a pretense of everything being okay, but he'd tried. It wasn't his fault and Johnny had kept poking and prodding until he'd coughed up the truth.

The facts remained the same. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to his insides, the beat of his own heart. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much he thought it might be even worse than the fear and pain and terrified silence that had been around and inside him when his dad'd had his accident at work, when they'd waited outside in the waiting room, white halls of a hospital that still made Johnny's skin crawl whenever he thought of it.

Stéphane moved, gave a little yawn. "'s time?" he mumbled, throat hoarse and his hands moved to his face to rub over his eyes.

"Early," Johnny replied, leaning down onto him, caressing his neck gently. "Go back to sleep. 's Sunday."

"Oh," Stéphane mouthed, then added, "You're up."

"Yeah," Johnny smiled a bit. "I had to think about some stuff."

"Don't," Stéphane smiled back, eyes reddened from the rubbing. "'s bad for you. Wrinkles."

"Aw, don't be mean," Johnny teased. "I'll be beautiful even when my whole face's wrinkled. Pushing ninety, and I'll be top of the World's Sexiest Gay Men list, you'll see."

It made Stéphane laugh, so Johnny found his mission accomplished and kissed him on the mouth. "Well, if you're not going to sleep," he said then, "we can as well get up and bug your mom about some breakfast."

"Hungry?" Stéphane smiled.

"Don't even give me that innocent smile," Johnny grinned. "We burned a lot of calories last night." But his stomach contracted from guilt at his words, because that was by far the last reason why he'd asked.

 

~*~

 

As Johnny had already guessed, half past eight was not actually early enough for them to be awake before Stéphane's mom. There was low conversation sounding from the living room as they passed.

Johnny nodded towards it, question in his eyes.

Stéphane winced. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Please? Let's not go in there? I don't want to -"

"Don't be jumpy," Johnny touched his arm. "Look, you can't hide me in a cupboard and make it seem like I don't exist. And anyway, why would you?"

Stéphane glared. "I told you," he said. "I told you not to get mixed up in this. Please, Johnny, you promised to tone it down. I don't want trouble!"

"No," Johnny snorted. "No, you never want trouble, do you?"

Stéphane stopped in mid-step. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"I just think maybe a little confrontation -"

"Well, I don't want confrontation. So let it go. I -" Stéphane seemed to want to hold on to his irritation, but Johnny could practically see it evaporate as he sighed. His eyes softened. "I do appreciate that you were there last night and everything, I do. I appreciate you. But this is my problem, and just because you managed to get me to spill it doesn't mean I wanted you to share this."

Johnny bit his lip. "I get it," he said.

"That's good." There was clear relief in Stéphane's posture, his shoulders less set than just a second ago. "Thanks."

"Can we go and get something to eat now?" Johnny muttered.

"Yeah, course."

Johnny helped get out the cups while Stéphane got the plates and the bread and they made up a bit of a meal until Stéphane was busy by the fridge getting out the cold cuts, jam, butter. That was when the door swung open once more.

Johnny knew Stéphane's mom, since the first time they'd met, actually. She was quite good-looking, Portugese on first glance with her dark hair and strange eyes. She was a bit small, but then, Johnny was used to small from his own mom - and she'd always been very friendly and warm towards him, and never said a bad word. He wondered, therefore, how it could be that the man she'd picked was giving Stéphane such trouble. He couldn't believe Stéphane was overreacting. Stéphane surely had his moments of overzealous melodrama, but over a matter like this...?

"Morning," he greeted them. His gaze fell on the man.

It was a bit of a surprise; Johnny'd seen Stéphane's dad a few times, mostly on photographs, and he'd been that rather bland, unremarkable type who really only lit up when he laughed. This man was younger, in his late thirties maybe, probably the same age as Stéphane's mom, and if Johnny would have been allowed to venture a guess, the first thing out of his mouth would have been that the guy was some kind of Secret Service agent or maybe FBI or something. He looked very... official.

"Oh, Johnny," Mrs Lambiel stepped close, pulling him into an involuntary half-hug. "Morning. I didn't know you were staying over. Stéphane never mentioned it. Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Johnny smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

"It's been a while - you probably haven't even met Kennedy, have you?"

"Kennedy Russell," the guy nodded. Johnny wasn't sure whether he didn't venture forward to shake Johnny's hand because Mrs. Lambiel was blocking his path or whether there was something else behind it.

"Johnny," he said quickly. "Johnny Weir. And no," Johnny glanced over at Stéphane, who'd stopped taking out things and was looking like a deer caught in headlights. "Actually, I didn't even know you had a new boyfriend, Mrs. Lambiel. Stéphane only recently told me."

"Well." She blushed a bit. "You know Stéphane. And it's kind of private."

Johnny took the gentle rebuff with grace. "I know," he said smartly. "He took the greatest care with the secret. He kept it for... how long was that, exactly?"

Stéphane kicked his shin from behind. "Johnny!" he hissed. "Stop it."

Johnny shrugged. "Sorry."

"Have you eaten breakfast already, Mom?" Stéphane asked, still scowling.

"We did, about an hour ago. We're both early risers."

The miserable flush on Stéphane's face told Johnny enough; apparently, that was already way more information on dear Kennedy Russell's sleeping habits than Stéphane ever had wanted to know.

"But I thought we might join you two anyway, I can make some coffee?"

She was so obviously trying to dissipate the tension in the air by being cheery and motherly that Johnny had to feel a little sorry for her. "It's okay," he said, ignoring Stéphane's glare. "I'm sure the bonding time will do us all some good."

He sat back down on his seat, accepting the can of hot tea from Stéphane, half-fearing with the vehemence Stéphane had shoved it at him it might end up all over his lap. But Mrs. Lambiel seemed to be thankful for his interference, because she gave him a sunny smile.

"How's school going, Johnny?" she asked, nudging her boyfriend to sit down at the table.

"Pretty good," he said, scrutinizing as well as he could from below half-closed eyelids, trying not to be too obvious about it. "I bombed the biology test, but that's because Stéphane kept distracting me."

He flinched at the pain that shot through his leg as another kick hit. With interest, he perceived that Russell didn't even blink. His face remained as impassive as ever.

"What he means," Stéphane explained, reddening, "is that he prefers movies over textbooks."

"Well, who doesn't?" his mom threw them a little grin. The water boiled in the heater and she had to turn to make the coffee.

"What do you work as, Sir?" Johnny grabbed the moment to direct the conversation towards the until now very taciturn Mr. Russell.

After the closer examination, he had to admit there was something about this fellow. He was certainly icy and the stoic air about him almost immediately turned Johnny off, but he was rather handsome: he had very pretty blue eyes with long curly lashes and his facial structure had something of a Johnny Depp in 'The Astronaut's Wife', a strangely appealing attraction despite the complete impassivity.

"I work as an attorney," Russell said, gaze settling on Johnny. He tilted his head to the side slowly, then asked, "Was there something in particular you wanted to ask that requires close scrutiny?"

"No," Johnny smiled. "I was just wondering, that's all. You got any kids?"

"Johnny!" Stéphane put a roll in his hand and glared. "We're supposed to have food for breakfast, not the inquisition!"

Mrs. Lambiel put a cup of coffee before Russell and sat down herself with one in her hands. Steam was curling up from them both. She didn't seem irritated at all. "Don't worry, Stéphane," she grinned. "I'm sure Kennedy's used to cross-examinations."

"Doing them, maybe," Stéphane muttered.

Johnny couldn't suppress his own grin at that.

"I have a daughter," Russell answered the question. "She's about your age, if I could hazard a guess about that. Alexandra."

"Nice name," Johnny smiled. "Previous marriage?"

"No, actually. My wife died giving birth."

Johnny glanced at Stéphane. Stéphane had never mentioned ever meeting this guy's daughter, but with the looks Stéphane was giving everyone, he couldn't say whether he'd even known she existed.

"Well, I'm sure you don't mind me asking questions, then," he finally settled on, seeing the amused expression on Mrs. Lambiel's face giving him option to continue. He smiled. "You must be used to _your_ daughter's boyfriends going through the whole catalogue at some point."

Finally, a reaction to those words. Russell stiffened over his coffee. Unfortuantely, Johnny couldn't quite figure out if it was because he'd just reminded them all who he was to Stéphane, or if it was because he was hypersensitive about his daugher dating.

It didn't help that Stéphane squashed his toes so hard with his foot that he had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from yowling in pain.

"So, you went to the movies?" Mrs. Lambiel finally asked, sipping on her coffee while she watched them over the rim of her cup. "Anything good in the theaters?"

"No," Stéphane mumbled. "But Lord of the Rings's coming up. If you want to see it."

Johnny nibbled on his roll while he listened to the unenthusiastic back-and-forth about entertainment. Finally, breakfast was declared over when Russell put his cup back onto the table, giving Mrs. Lambiel an encouraging look to drink up.

Johnny caught the emotion in his gaze, and he had to admit, Stéphane hadn't been wrong. There was definitely more to this relationship, that much was sure by just watching the two of them interact. This man was clearly smitten with Mrs. Lambiel, and Stéphane's mom seemed to like him a whole deal, judging from the way their hands brushed when she took his cup from him and by the way he thanked her for the coffee, touching her arm.

He helped Stéphane clean the remains of the breakfast up, waiting impatiently until the two adults had left the kitchen, then halted Stéphane by kissing his neck softly.

"Are you mental?" Stéphane hissed, whipping around, glaring.

"What?" Johnny frowned. "I just kissed you!"

"Well, you shouldn't. They might come back," Stéphane mumbled, clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm not fucking you over the counter," Johnny said sardonically. "I was giving you a chaste little kiss. And anyway, don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

Stéphane took a step back so fast, Johnny winced at his own poor wording. His face was full of dismay, eyes wide and hurt.

Well, shit.

"Overreacting?" Stéphane asked, flushing unhappily. "You've only met him for about ten minutes -"

"- and yeah, he seems like a very cold, unemotional person, but he obviously really likes your mom, so he is capable of feelings, and it's not like he actually said anything. Did he?"

Stéphane looked like he was about to burst into tears all over again. "You have no idea what it was like before!"

"Obviously," Johnny blinked. "Someone forgot to introduce us."

"Fuck _you_ , Johnny. Just - I fucking begged you to leave it alone, and you still have to go and poke at it. Guess what, I don't want you to. Can we drop it? Forget I said anything. Obviously, it's such a non-issue, it's not important."

"I didn't say -"

"Just fucking _drop it_!"

Johnny had been about to touch him, but the words made him reconsider. Stéphane in such an explosive mood wasn't really the right time for getting touchy-feely; he might end up with a jam jar split open over his head. So he stepped back, nodded. "Okay. What do you want me to do. Leave?"

"I don't know," Stéphane said softly. "Yeah. Maybe. Not really." He took a few deep breaths, calming down. Johnny waited, patiently. "I thought we would - I dunno. We could have a go with the PlayStation, Chris got one last year... he'd probably be okay with us using it, he has some cool games."

"So you don't want me to go? Are you sure?"

"No. I want you to stay," Stéphane muttered. "Just don't go looking for fights with Kennedy again."

Johnny seriously doubted he would be able to get into a real fight with Mr. Russell any more than he could get into one with Stéphane without the other boy immediately bolting on him, but he thought it couldn't hurt to nod as if he'd understood.

 

~*~

 

Unforuntately, unbeknownst to Stéphane, reality turned out to have completely other plans: Mrs. Lambiel and Russell were about to leave, standing in the hallway, dressing, when he and Johnny left the kitchen and just managed to pass them by on their way to the stairs.

Johnny gazed over, saw with a bit of a smile that Russell, very gentleman-like, pulled up her coat for Stéphane's mom and helped her dress. He pulled free the strands of hair which had gotten caught beneath the material and afterwards caressed her ear gently. Johnny glanced at Stéphane, saw the other boy staring straight ahead, embarrassed at the display.

Apparently, they weren't moving fast enough, because instead of getting away, they were stopped by the sound of her voice.

"Stéphane, wait a second," Mrs. Lambiel called after them, and added, "Maybe you should stay back, too, Johnny."

They exchanged uncertain looks and turned around to face her. She waved them closer, so they complied hesitantly.

"Is Johnny going to stay over more often now?" she asked when they were near enough.

There was definitely a crisp in the air at the words, a bit like after a night of storming snow, and it wasn't just coming off Stéphane. The intent of the words was so obviously clear nobody could have missed it, and though Johnny had never expected Mrs. Lambiel of all people to speak up about them sleeping together, apparently, it did seem to be a point of worry on her account, because she looked a bit concerned.

It wasn't the concern, however, that caught Johnny's attention - his own mom had shown that to a degree that, to Johnny, still seemed highly superfluous.

No, what shocked Johnny was the sudden and vehement flicker of poorly hidden distaste that crossed Russell's face at Stéphane's stammered answer that consisted of a few 'yes's with question marks behind them and the one or other 'well, he is my boyfriend' and explanations of same kind. It was gone a split second later, and Johnny was sure if he'd blinked, he'd have completely missed it - but he hadn't, and it had been there, and that made him feel very uncomfortably alert to the fact that something fishy was going on here and that maybe, Stéphane was _not_ actually overreacting like the drama queen he could sometimes be.

Up until now, all the signs Johnny'd picked up had been coincidental. No touching - well, some people didn't like to get physical. Disinterest, aloofness - personality traits he shared with more and more people these days; the only time Russell had shown emotion, it had been when talking about his daughter or when he was on his own with Stéphane's mom.

It was very strange, Johnny decided.

"I just feel like I should ask," Mrs. Lambiel said meanwhile, "because next time, I'd like to be told if we're having guests." She gave Stéphane a slightly reproachful look. "Okay?"

"Okay," Stéphane mumbled. "Sorry."

She gave his cheek a little caress that he half-evaded by ducking and nodded. "I know, it's Johnny, so it's kind of okay. Still, I just wanted to make clear what I meant. If you plan to bring someone home to stay over, it would be nice to know so I can prepare for it." She gave Johnny an apologetic smile.

"I will," Stéphane repeated. "I promise."

"Thank you. Now, I don't know what you boys have planned for today, but Kennedy's taking me out for the day, so it would be nice, Stéphane, if you could look a bit after your brother."

"Chris can look after himself," Stéphane mumbled, but nodded anyway. "But if you think he needs looking after..."

"And I might be late, so I won't be here to make you dinner or anything, so eat something, all right?" She smiled at their simultaneous groans. "Well, you _are_ too skinny!"

"All right, all right," Stéphane rolled his eyes. "We'll eat something. Just go already."

Stéphane made to turn, but she held him back, giving him a look. "Well?"

Johnny blinked.

Stéphane bit his lip. "Well what?" he asked, but he seemed to play defiant, because Johnny saw his mom frown at that before she said, "Manners, Stéphane."

Stéphane freed himself from the hand on his shoulder and said, "Yeah, yeah, have a nice day, Mr. Russell, Mom." He didn't look at the man, just glared at Mrs. Lambiel and turned around to walk away quickly.

"Uh," Johnny said intelligently, curiously watching the set curl of Russell's mouth. "Have fun."

"Thanks, dear," Mrs. Lambiel replied, looking after Stéphane, still frowning. "You boys as well." She glanced around at him, smiled. "Keep him out of trouble, will you?"

"I rather think Stéphane's capable of keeping himself out of trouble," Russell corrected gently.

"I rather think that, too," Johnny grinned. "Don't worry, Mrs. Lambiel. He just didn't sleep too well." It elicited another tiny wince from the man, he noted gleefully. "I'll try to put him in a better mood later."

Mrs. Lambiel raised her eyebrows at that.

"We'll go have chocolate ice cream," Johnny added quickly, smirk widening.

"Scram already," she smiled.

Johnny turned to follow after Stéphane, but he slowed down towards the stairs and he heard Mr. Russell say to Stéphane's mom under his breath, "You sure about leaving them on their own here?", to which she replied, "They're sixteen, not ten, they'll manage."

From the tone of voice, Johnny was pretty sure that was not what the man had meant, but he had to run up the stairs and they opened the door to leave and he couldn't investigate any more.

 

~*~

 

It took Johnny a good two days to get around to sharing with anyone. He'd never liked fighting with his own conscience. It made him question his own morality, and that was not a good thing. He liked his morality just fine without having to worry about whether it was the right or the wrong way to be.

However, in the end, worry about Stéphane won out against his first instinct to wait it out and find out more about what was going on here. And, of course, his healthy fear of Stéphane killing him if he ever found out Johnny'd told anyone.

"You can't tell anyone about this," Johnny emphasized. "I know you wouldn't intentionally, but even just a slip-up... if it was just about me - but it isn't and you have to promise not to tell. Even Stéphane. That I told you this."

Evan gave him a very strange look. "When did I become your secret trouble box?"

"I don't know," Johnny mumbled. "But it's not even about the whole sharing-thing. I just think you might be able to tell me what's going on."

"Right." Evan sat down on the bench next to him where they usually tied their skates and fiddled with his own. "Are we even here to skate, or was that just a ruse to get me here?"

Johnny looked at him a little guiltily. He'd broken their little agreement by chatting to Evan in school and had let slip that he'd be at the rink in the afternoon. He just kind of hoped that other people held to their promises better than he himself did. He knew that Stéphane did, and it gave him a painful sting of fear in the chest area; he knew that Stéphane was big on the whole promise idea. Breaking one after the other would really make a good impression, Johnny thought grimly.

"I thought so," Evan sighed. "Let's have it then."

"Promise first."

"Right. You want it in blood, or is my word of honour enough?"

"Stop joking around, it's not funny," Johnny mumbled. "Seriously, you can't tell anyone."

"I won't," Evan said gently. "C'mon, why would I tell anyone? Who would I tell, at that?"

"I can think of a few people and reasons," Johnny said rather sharply. But he didn't really mean it, and Evan had to know, because he didn't take offence.

"I promise," he said. "I won't tell anyone your secret."

"Right. So, uh," Johnny glanced around, checking whether the nearby area was clear, then looked at Evan again. "So, the thing is, Stéphane's mom is dating a guy. Like, dating him for months already, apparently, and they're really serious, it seems. Like, really, really serious."

"And your boyfriend has daddy issues?" Evan quirked a smile.

"Oh, shut up," Johnny pushed his shoulder. "It's not that. He says the guy's perfectly polite and friendly, but when he found out Stéphane's got himself a boyfriend -"

"- you -"

"- exactly, me. And the problem is, apparently, he doesn't like that part of Stéphane very much."

"Huh," Evan said. "Imagine that."

"You're being a real asshole, you know that, right?"

Evan gave him a look. "Dude, what did you expect? The whole world to treat you like the princess you are? You've been lucky till now, well, except for the whole school stuff, obviously, but from what I've heard you talk, your parents are real troopers about stuff like this. There are kids out there whose parents would have kicked them out on the first sign that they're anything but what they're supposed to be. Reality check, Johnny. The world's not full of accepting people. It's full of people who are really, really uncomfortable with two guys doing the love thing."

"Thanks for that little remainder," Johnny said, rather put off. "I'm not stupid. I do get that you don't like gay people -"

"- I _never_ said anything against gay people," Evan snapped. "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Well, you act like you don't like us being together."

"You are the strangest person I've ever met," Evan shook his head. "First I act like I want in your pants, then I suddenly don't and it was all your imagination, then I act like I don't like gay people at all, and then I suddenly just act like I just don't like _you_ guys being together. Do make up your mind, Johnny, before you accuse someone of stuff you know shit about."

Johnny pressed his lips together, sulky. "Well, how else am I to take the way you act. You obviously just care for me as long as no one else sees us together."

Evan shrugged. "True enough. I expected you to have figured out why. You're not stupid, after all. Or only sometimes."

Johnny felt himself flush.

"That wasn't a compliment," Evan added quickly, reddening a bit himself. "I was stating a fact."

"All right," Johnny nodded. "And yeah, I know you act that way because you're a fucking coward, but -"

"If not wanting to get beaten up makes me a coward. But it doesn't make me homophobic. I'm just careful about surviving high school. You are so very obviously not."

"No," Johnny sighed. "I just don't want to take it lying down. First thing I learned is that bullies will always pick on you twice as much if you're shy and vulnerable. So I try not to be."

"They still pick on you twice as much, because with your attitude, you have their complete attention." Evan's tone of voice did make clear the 'fucking idiot' he didn't add to the end of that sentence.

Johnny shrugged. "There are shy people around. I don't want them to get hurt."

Evan gave him a look. "I won't even say what I think of that, because it's just impossible to comment on it. Back on topic however, what did the guy do that's so horrible? Some kind of abuse?"

Johnny's head snapped up. "No!" he said quickly. "No, nothing like that. I'd know if it was something like that."

"You would?"

"He'd have told me. I'm sure of it. He - he wouldn't stand for that, no matter how much he wants his mom happy. If the guy was -"

"- there's all kinds of abuse," Evan shrugged. "Doesn't have to be physical."

"Yeah, but - I don't know. I mean, when I was over there, like, I stayed and he was there too and I met him, he was okay. I mean, he did the whole wince-at-every-mention-of-the-gay thing and I'm pretty sure he finds it disgusting that we're together, but he didn't outright _say_ anything, and if I hadn't been paying very close attention, I wouldn't have noticed, probably."

"Huh. So what's the problem?" Evan asked. "I mean, yeah, I get that it'd be uncomfortable living with a person like that, but it's not a reason to flip, is it? The chance that his mom'll meet someone actually _happy_ with her having a gay son is very small. Someone for herself that is. There's all kinds of creeps walking around, after all."

Johnny rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what the problem is," he said. "Stéphane won't really say. But the thing is, I did only see the guy when he was accompanied by Stéphane's mom. He could be different on his own."

"Hm." Evan didn't seem to know what to say to that. "I don't even know what you expect me to say."

"I was hoping for a way to solve the situation."

"Because you thought I was what? The local expert on homophobes?"

Johnny blushed. "I did not. I just... well, I thought you might offer up a few possibilities what to do."

"Make him tell his mom, let her decide what to do."

"He refuses. He kind of made me promise not to say anything to anyone about it. I only got it out of him because I kept digging until he said. He doesn't want his mom to worry."

Evan gave him a pitying look. "That's a real bummer, you do realize that, right? He single-handedly checkmated your relationship."

Johnny bit his lip, hating the painful squeeze of his own heart at the thought. "I just want him to be all right," he muttered, trying to believe it himself. The thing was, he wanted Stéphane to be happy, but he wanted to be happy himself too. And he was pretty sure he'd be miserable like hell without Stéphane.

"Maybe you should ask someone else," Evan finally proposed. "Your parents might be able to help you out with this a little better than I can."

"What if they decide to break their promise and tell Stéphane's mom? My mom knows Mrs. Lambiel, they're kind of friends. And my mom's not big on the promise thing if it's for the greater good."

"Seems to run in the family, that," Evan gazed at him, slight smile on his lips.

"Yeah, well." Johnny shrugged. "If I do nothing, he'll hate me even more for not doing anything later. If I do something, he'll hate me now that I broke my promise and - if the shit hits the fan - wrecking his mom's for now happy relationship."

"You are so screwed," Evan commented idly, fiddling with his skate.

Johnny sighed. "You could at least offer me a blowjob to cheer me up."

 

~*~

 

In school, nothing much changed: he managed to weasel his way into a re-take of the exam he'd flunked - the big, red F on the empty-white page looked horribly accusing - so he could stop worrying about that grade and also, about Stéphane's, who somehow had managed to charm a B out of his sleeve even though he couldn't have studied a lot more than Johnny for it, considering they'd been making out most of that week.

He put two rats into the soccer changing rooms that squeaked at him indignantly before scurrying under the lockers by the wall - not for long, however, as he had the pleasure to hear the girly shrieks of the other boys through the door when they returned from practice. Who'd have thought some of them didn't like rats, he smirked. He just hoped the rats were clever enough to save themselves from the trampling brutes.

He successfully skipped PE twice, since they were doing mock-football these days, which he hated, and made out with Stéphane in the men's room on the second floor, giggling and breathless and with a bit more groping than he'd originally thought would happen.

All in all, it was a pretty satisfactory week. Or would have been if Brian hadn't been a pain and Stéphane hadn't pulled away and bottled up every time Johnny just tried to breach the topic of Russell.

He just wanted to know what had happened. He wanted to know what he was looking at here, before he did something drastic, like telling Stéphane's mom. But maybe that was Stéphane's point, he pondered. Maybe Stéphane was hiding something that was bad enough that he had already concluded Johnny would break his promise the moment he heard.

It wasn't probable, but the possibility was there, and it was a really dangerous one. He was sure Evan was wrong and nothing like abuse was going on here - he was absolutely certain he would know if there was - but it still grated. Not only that he couldn't figure it out, but mostly that Stéphane didn't want to _tell_ him.

Friday turned the tide, finally. He'd been of half a mind to ask his own mom what to do - or his dad, for that matter, if his mom had no answer - except he didn't want to show that kind of dependance. It was a question of whether he'd run to his parents with everything that bothered him, or whether he could solve his problems himself, and he didn't _want_ to be the kind of adult who still asked his parents for help if there was an uncomfortable choice ahead.

Then, however, over lunch, he had to listen to Brian going on about how Lacoste's parents weren't too keen on them dating already, about her dad being overprotective of his baby-daughter, and there it was, the saving idea.

So Stéphane wasn't talking and he couldn't pressure Russell into talking, because that would piss of Stéphane, Stéphane's mom _and_ Stéphane's mom's boyfriend... but he could try to find out through another source.

Johnny put down his knife next to his empty lunch plate and grinned at Brian. Brian of course took it as declaration of war and threw a potato at his head.

 

~*~

 

It took Johnny a few attempts until he found Alexandra Russell. He'd assumed she would be listed under her father's name - who, on the internet, was easier to find than he'd believed. There didn't seem to be many attorneys around this area with his name. The White Pages were easily consulted. However, when he called - he didn't plan to talk, just to listen who'd pick up - nobody answered the phone.

It was Friday afternoon, so school was most certainly out, but maybe she was out for the day. However, Johnny wouldn't have been the thorough private investigator he fantasised himself to be, if he hadn't had a tiny bit of doubt in mind that maybe he should try another approach before he actually went to the home address he'd found, to lurk behind some bushes and wait for her to get home.

So instead, he checked the High School yearbook from the Senior Year, and after a bit of wading through useless information, he found a few links to a forum of the class, into which he logged on, where she had her email address listed.

He grinned. Damn, he was good. He rolled up his sleeves and opened up a new email document, then wrote a short greeting and introduction, hoping it would be enough to trigger her curiosity.

 

~*~

 

Apparently, it was.

Johnny had a half-lenghty phone conversation with Stéphane in between helping his mom with the laundry (heavily complaining that Brian didn't have to do _anything_ again) and watching a tennis match on TV, which he would have normally considered the biggest waste of time, if it hadn't been for the fact that his dad was - for once - not protesting about Johnny curling up next to him on the couch like a cat.

When he returned to his room and eagerly logged into his account to check his emails, he had one new message.

' _Dear Johnny_ ,' it said, and continued just as warmly, ' _I was tempted to delete your message at once since I didn't know your address, but your inventive and highly amusing subject line managed to change my mind, which only gives more power to you._ '

Johnny grinned. So going with 'double cock size for half the price' had been a good move then. Who'd have thought.

' _But coming back to your reason for writing, yes, I know Stéphane. We've met a few times over the past few months, though the fact that you needed to ask begs the question of how close an acquaintance of his you really are._ '

Johnny felt a lurch in his stomach at her words. A few times? How had Stéphane managed to keep this girl from him? Why would he, even? He felt a wave of suspicious and thinly veiled jealousy for a moment before squishing it mercilessly. Stéphane hadn't told him about Russell, so why would he about the Alexandra girl. And anyway, there could be nothing between them. Stéphane was his now, and he liked to emphasize that it was Johnny who wasn't too certain about his feelings yet.

However, Johnny's mood had already taken a nosedive at that point, so he let it go, licked his lips and read on.

' _I don't know how this is any of your business, incidentally. How did you find out about me, anyway? Or about this email address, for that matter, I thought I'd kept it fairly private? But that's the internet for you, I guess._

Never mind that, though, if you're not willing to give me a bit more information about the situation and why exactly you've written me, or asking these questions, I don't think I can share more with you. Sorry about that. I just don't feel comfortable talking about my father's relationship with a stranger.

Have a nice life,  
Alexandra'

Johnny closed the window and leaned back in his seat, considering. Well, this didn't tell him all that much about what he needed to know. What he really needed, he figured, was to get closer. Apparently, this girl knew way more than Stéphane was willing to tell Johnny. Lying wasn't really one of Johnny's favourite pastimes, but half-lying was okay, and he was fairly good at bluffing. So this would have to do. It wasn't like there was another way.

He swivveled around on his chair once, then opened her mail again, hit the reply button and wrote,

 _I'm his boyfriend and I'm worried about him. Can we meet up? Your place or mine, I don't mind, I know it's a twenty-minutes distance, but I can take the bus or train. Gotta talk, and soon. Johnny._

Contrary to popular opinion, he didn't believe in clothing his words in layers of polite phrases. Anyway, she had a really strange way of putting things herself. He was getting more and more curious about this girl, and, maybe even more so about her father.

 

~*~

 

Apparently, Alexandra got the message, because in true action-flick-style, she wrote a time stamp and an address and nothing much else into her text field the next time.

Johnny grinned. Someone was a quick study.

The timing, however, was a bit bad. He'd promised Stéphane they'd meet in the library Saturday afternoon to study for a history exam that was coming up in two weeks. Sometimes, Johnny hated how school got in the way of real life.

Well, it was a no-brainer, really, in the end. With the amount of promises he'd broken by now, one more wouldn't make him seem any more of an asshole. One more lie, too, since he couldn't exactly tell Stéphane, 'hey, I'm gonna visit your maybe future stepsister you hid from me for months, wanna come to say hi?'

At least, he had a plan for that. He cornered Brian in his room.

"I need you to cover for me."

"What?" Brian blinked. "For what? Mom? Are you sneaking to Stéphane's again for the night? Because, dude, bad idea. Just tell her and -"

"No. No, hold it." Johnny shook his head. "I gotta leave tomorrow afternoon for something important, but I had a study date with Stéphane that I'll have to skip. The thing is, I can't tell him where I'm going."

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Do we have to have this conversation again? Because I don't care who you're taking it from, but if you fuck him over -"

Johnny snorted. "He really, really sold you on the chocolate, didn't he?"

"It's not the chocolate," Brian blushed, but held his ground. "It's the sparkling personality. Which you don't have. Fuck off, big brother."

"Aw, you have a crush. On my boyfriend. That is _so_ adorable."

"I do not."

"You _so_ do."

"I do not." Brian punched his arm, hard. "He's nice to me, that's all. While you constantly treat me like I'm your least favourite brother."

Johnny smiled and patted his head. "But you're my most favourite one, too!"

"I hate you."

"I love you too." Johnny grinned. "You'll do it, right?"

Brian shook his head, then reconsidered. "Only if you tell me why you can't keep the date. You can use me as a cover then."

"I can't," Johnny said heavily. "I really - I just can't. It's private. Stéphane's private, not my private, which I'd share with you. I can't share his secrets, though, right?" He ignored the guilty conscience that pointed out rather timely that _this_ particular ship had long sailed.

"Then I'm not helping you. Find someone else to cover for you."

"Brian!"

Brian put his hands over his eyes and shook his head. "No see, no hear, no speak."

"I'm using the puppy eyes!"

Brian half-grinned beneath his hands. "Like I said. Can't see you."

"But... but my whole plan relies on you! And... and it's Stéphane's happiness at stake!"

Brian rolled his eyes under his hands. "I need two more of those to clamp them over my ears," he sighed.

"Please?"

"Johnny -"

"Please. I'll be the best big brother for... a whole week!"

"Month."

"Two weeks."

"Three at least!"

" _Fine_. Slave driver."

Brian cleared his throat. "What was that? I didn't quite catch that?"

Johnny gave him a toothy smile. "Let me get you some chocolate."

"That's more like it."

 

~*~

 

"I'm really sorry," Johnny lied, feeling really, really bad about it. He'd just sent Alexandra back the email that everything was okay and that he'd come to the appointed address the next day. It was time to go to bed by now, and he was lying down in pyjamas already, holding the receiver in his right while he ran his left through his hair.

"You have to go?" Stéphane asked, disappointed.

"Yeah. It's Brian's soccer game thingie, they have one every Saturday, but this time, the parents want me to go with them. It's a family thing, apparently."

"But it's not like we were going to do anything bad," Stéphane mumbled, unhappy. "We were going to study! In the library. A public place. It's not just fun, is it?"

"Yeah. I know. But tell that to my mom. When she hears my name, yours, and the word studying, I don't even need to mention Biology for her to think of exactly _what_ we'll be studying."

Stéphane sighed. "Oh well. I guess, if your parents think it's better you join them. Have you done something bad again? Maybe it's punishment."

"Heh. Yeah." Johnny snorted. Trust Stéphane to come up with that one. Everybody knew that Johnny disliked soccer almost as much as tennis or football.

"How 'bout in the evening?" Stéphane asked. "Can you come over, like last week? That was nice." He sounded hopeful.

"I don't know." Johnny swallowed. "I have no idea how long this is gonna take. Maybe? I'll have to clear it with the mom, too. And you with yours."

"I already asked," Stéphane smiled into the receiver. "She said it's okay for you to stay over."

So the little scene at the door really had been less about the two of them being together, and more about the fact that Stéphane had neglected to warn her beforehand. Talk about muddled priorities. Johnny shook his head. But this wasn't about that.

"I can't tell you right now. Once I know, I'll write you a text that I'm coming over?"

"Great. Should your parents change their plans or something, I'll still be at the library."

"Uh-huh. I'll keep it in mind."

"Right."

A short bout of silence stretched over seconds that passed like thick honey. Johnny squirmed, discomfort still in his mind that he was behaving like a lying rat instead of coming clean, like he maybe should. But then, he'd never find out what was going on with Stéphane, and whether he was standing with one foot in hell, or with both - well. Did it really matter?

"I kind of really want to fuck you right now," Stéphane suddenly said into the silence.

Johnny couldn't help it. Guilty conscience or not, he burst into laughter, tears at the corners of his eyes from mirth. "I love you too," he mumbled, and grinned happily when he heard Stéphane give an indignant huff.

"I was trying to be sexy, you jerk."

Johnny broke out into laughter again. "I know. Just... right now, it's really not working."

"You're a cruel, cruel person, Johnny Weir. I'm going to hang up now without saying good night to you. Take that."

"Aw. Don't be -"

But by then, he was already talking to the beep tone. Johnny sighed and closed his eyes. Stéphane was expecting him to call back, that was for sure. Johnny let him stew for five minutes, then he pushed the call button and let it ring once before hanging up. React to _that_ , he thought with a smirk. And waited.

 

~*~


	2. Outtake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny finds the rats.

For the record, Johnny Weir did _not_ enjoy lounging about in the sewers. At all.

That said, paying good money for something in a shop that he could get for free down here, was not acceptable either, and he needed all his cash to be able to go to the rink later, so it was a non-issue at that point.

The worst part was the stink. And the squeaking sounds, obviously, but mostly, the stink. It was horrible and it made him wish he'd brought a gas mask. Unfortunately, gas masks tended to be more expensive than two silly rats, so he swallowed (made him feel like he had to puke) and tried not to breathe while he moved towards the end of the tunnel where the squeaking was loud and slightly panicked.

Johnny Weir was no girl, and therefore, had no fear of rats. Rats were, after all, just the bigger mouse versions, and okay, their tails were slightly icky, but then, they couldn't do anything about their tails, and they didn't really deserve their bad reputation.

The alligator, however, was another thing. Johnny was just a little scared of the alligator.

And yeah, he knew it was a myth, but dude. No smoke without fire, right?

He had a middle-big wooden box where his brother had kept his Barbie dolls when he'd been younger - something Johnny didn't plan on ever letting him live down, because Brian always insisted vehemently he'd been the car-racing type - and he'd put a few bits of cheese and ham in that he'd found rotting in the back of their freezer at home.

It worked like magic. Probably, the poor buggers were starved down here, because the moment they smelled the food and Johnny took two steps back, they raced closer; the first two to push into the box were actually a bit bigger than he'd imagined they would be. And they looked a lot less nice than on TV. Their fur was wet and stinking and horribly unkempt. Johnny didn't think he'd ever go out of the house looking like that.

But then, he wasn't a rat.

The stink and weird, popping sounds emerging from further back down the tunnel as well as the occasional clunk of something hitting a wall all emphasized that he'd spent more than enough time down here now, so he swiftly closed the box with a snap of the lock - the rats squeaked like crazy - and took the box into his hands to make his way back to fresh air as fast as he could.

He was a bit dizzy from holding his breath for so long.

His mom screamed bloody murder when he showed her the box. It made him smile for the rest of the day.

 

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

Rule numéro uno when it came to lying was to make the distance to the truth as small as possible: in Johnny's case, it was a hair's width, barely. His brother and parents _were_ going to Brian's soccer game - it was just that he wasn't going with them. Instead, he got on the bus he'd looked up so that he'd be five minutes earlier than on time, which was half past two pm.

The address Alexandra had given him, he'd soon found, was not actually the one he'd looked up for Mr. Russell, which had given him a pause, but only for a second. Then he'd become all the more curious.

It was a tall building, quite ugly on the outside, grey and square-like, on the other side of a bank office and just a few blocks down from a big shopping centre. He pressed the button labelled with her name and it seemed to work, beacause a few seconds later, the door buzzed open. The hallway smelled of sanitizer and strangely, of cabbage. Johnny decided not to dwell on it and made his way up the stairs. There was no elevator - not that he'd have used it if there had been one. Definitely not.

Third floor was his destination and he found the door to her apartment at the far end. He knocked. It took her about two seconds to open the door, one of which, Johnny thought, might have been a glance through the spyhole. Then he got his first real look at her.

Funny enough, halfway through the reciprocated scrutiny, he almost expected to hear Lucky Luke western music to start up, it was so ridiculous.

She was both nothing and everything he'd expected. Which was to say, he hadn't expected a lot, because he tended not to try to have preconceived impressions of people. She was almost as tall as him, broader shoulders and wider hips, which all in all made her seem like she'd be able to knock him down if she slapped him once. She had chin-lenght black hair and her father's blue eyes. She'd also very clearly inherited his ingrained coldness.

"Johnny, huh?" she asked with a miniscule smile.

"That's me," Johnny said, reaching for a handshake. "You're Alexandra."

"Yes," she said and shook, firm, dry grip squeezing his fingers. "You don't look at all like I imagined you." Her gaze flicked over him from head to toes. "You're... even skinnier than Stéphane. I didn't think that was possible."

Johnny grinned. "And yet, we both get fed. Strange how that turns out."

She smiled back, tension easing a bit. "C'mon in then, I guess."

The inside was much nicer than the overall feel of the building itself. It was decorated with colorful rugs and wallpaper, and there were paintings all over the walls, canvas standing around when he glanced to his left into the living room.

"You're an artist?"

"I try to be."

"Hm." Johnny gave her an appraising look. The paintings were dark mostly, in magenta and scarlet red tones, black or dark blue backgrounds, buildings towering over burning cities, icy crying faces on bleak, dim backgrounds.

She led him into the kitchen. A plate of cookies was on the table, and two glasses, already prepared. Apparently, the living room was a no-show then.

"Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No," Johnny said awkwardly. "I'm fine."

"Right." She sat down opposite, grabbing her glass to have something to twist her fingers around. "So."

"So..."

"So you're his boyfriend, huh?"

Johnny blushed. "Yeah. Uh, don't tell him I was here. He doesn't know." He figured it was safer to put the cards on the table in this case.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why would you sneak here without him knowing? What is this about, exactly?"

"Mostly, it's about your dad dating his mom," he said slowly. "It's been going on a while, right?"

Alexandra stared at him for a few long seconds, her eyes boring into his like she was testing him, then she leaned back in her chair and drank a sip from her glass, clearly thinking. "I don't know how much I can tell you," she finally said. "It's a bit of a problem, isn't it, if Stéphane isn't here, since, if he didn't tell you, he obviously doesn't want you to know."

Johnny bit his lip. "But I need to know! He's... he's told me enough to know that he's upset, but before I can fix it, I have to know more about what's going on. Otherwise, I might fuck everything up."

"Fuck up what exactly?"

Johnny glared at the table. "Everything between him and me."

"Ah." She gave him a beat, then asked, "So just tell me what's going on. Because I don't know you, but you seem like a nice kind of guy, and you obviously are crazy about him or you wouldn't be here - and I like Stéphane a lot."

Johnny gave her a suspicious scowl at that. "How much 'like' would that be exactly?"

She looked at him, eyes widening, then she suddenly, completely unexpectedly cracked up, a burst of hilarity breaking free that he wouldn't have seen coming if she'd warned him. "You're jealous."

"I'm not," Johnny said quickly, feeling himself redden.

"I'm telling you, if you came here because you're jealous -"

"I didn't -!"

"- then it was a wasted trip, like, completely."

"And why's that?" Johnny pouted.

"For one thing," Alexandra said with an amused tone to her voice, "because my girlfriend would be a bit upset if I turned out to be liking a guy at this point."

And there it was. Johnny gaped open-mouthed. Now that, he hadn't expected.

 

~*~

 

It took him a while to realign his realities again.

"So, you're gay then?" he finally managed to cough out.

"Happily girlfriended," she said, and it was very clear she was hard-pressed to suppress her grin.

"All right, so, what exactly is the _chance_ of a guy with a gay daughter to start dating a woman with a gay son -"

"Don't even start thinking like that," Alexandra shook her head. "As you can see, we're not exactly the prime example for father-and-daughter relationships."

"Right." Johnny hadn't mentioned it till now, but she was seventeen, and she was already living alone. "How does that work, anyway?"

She shrugged. "My father pays. Reluctantly, but he does. And nobody asks questions." She cleared her throat. "So was that then why you came here? About the whole wanting-to-know-about-the-other-woman thing?"

"Ah... no." Johnny licked his lips. "It wasn't. Like I said, Mrs. Lambiel is dating your dad... and apparently, since he found out about me being Stéphane's boyfriend, he's been acting like a big asshole - at least from what Stéphane says. Not that he says a lot. Or anything at all. But it's clearly upsetting him, so I'm trying to find out how bad this is and whether it's worth it to tell Stéphane's mom about it all."

"But if you do that, he won't be too pleased with you," Alexandra concluded. "Yeah. Makes sense."

"It does?"

"Strangely, yes. Stéphane has a really weird sense of propriety, if you know what I mean." She gave a lopsided smile. "Like putting another's happiness before his own is his life goal or something. Somebody should kick that out of him soon."

Johnny raised his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm liking him just fine. Except for the occasional bit of wanting to strangle him with my bare hands, I don't mind. It's your dad that gives me a headache. It wasn't much when I saw him, but he was acting kind of homophobic."

Alexandra raised her eyebrows. "That's because he is. More or less. Less than some people, I guess. More than others, if the two of you are this bothered by it. Look, I can't tell you what went on between my father and Stéphane, neither of them has told me. But if it's the same kind of shit he's been giving me, I'm not surprised Stéphane's climbing the walls. It's why I moved out, after all. It's not that he is all bad. He's a perfectly great guy as long as it doesn't go against his sense of morality. And being gay - well. It doesn't sit too well with him. So he doesn't support it. As you can see, he didn't want me to end up on the street, and he's reasonable enough. We came up with an arrangement that makes us both happy. He doesn't have to see my girlfriend visiting me, I don't have to listen to his drivel about how it's a stigma, how my life will be miserable and I will be hated by society for the rest of it."

Johnny pressed his lips together. "So what do you reckon, then?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, I don't know what went on between them. You'll have to talk to Stéphane about it. But yeah, one can talk to him. He's not a complete asshole. He can sometimes be, but he can be sweet too."

"You seem to be doing okay with all this, considering it's your dad we're talking about."

"It's not like I really see him as my 'dad'," Alexandra corrected, and her voice was a bit gentler than before. "It's not like we're both so easily approachable, so we're more old acquaintances than anything else. So yeah. I'm doing okay with all this. I've been looking after myself for a long time. I don't need your pity."

"I'm not pitying you."

"Good."

Johnny took a sip of water and looked at the plate of cookies. "So I guess there's nothing else to it?"

"I can give you a piece of advice, if you want some," she shrugged.

"Sure. Can't hurt, can it?"

"It can hurt a lot," she said. "But this one won't. I'm just adivising you to talk to Stéphane about all this. Explain it a bit, maybe he'll understand."

Johnny thought that if he hadn't already lied a _lot_ to get this far, he might have done. But he had lied, and broken promises, and it wasn't like it would be easy to admit that, so he'd rather really not. At least, he'd found out what all this was about now.

"Have you two met recently, anyway?" Johnny asked when he was on his way to the door a good ten minutes later in which they'd just sat in silence and awkwardly fumbled with their glasses, unsure what kind of small talk was appropriate here.

"No, it's been a while," she said. "Nothing too weird, we don't get together more often than once a month or so. We're due in a bit, though. Why?"

"Just curious," Johnny said and grabbed his jacket from the hook where he'd left it earlier. "It's a nice apartment. You living here long?"

"A couple months. Since senior year started, actually."

"Hm." Johnny smiled. "Well, anyway, thanks for meeting me and sharing the info. That was real friendly of you."

"Yeah." Alexandra smiled back a little hesitantly. "I'm glad to have met you, if only to get to know the kind of guy Stéphane goes for." There was a hint of teasing in her voice.

"Right. I'll see you around maybe."

She watched as he moved outside and stood in the doorway, and said, "Have a nice life."

Johnny grinned as he made his way down the hallway. Well. That was more than he'd hoped he'd get, in any case. Down the stairs, he took out his cell phone and started writing a text. It was barely four. He'd be back sooner than anticipated. Maybe he'd be able to get to the library in time yet, after all. He'd always wanted to make out there at least once in his life.

 

~*~

 

Christmas time drew near, barely over two weeks away, and Stéphane didn't mention his home situation again. Johnny worried, of course, but since there was no sign of any more upset, basically, there was nothing he could do about it.

That didn't mean he stopped thinking about it, though. One thing Evan had been right about: seeing Stéphane constantly watching his back, unhappy expression in his eyes whenever he thought Johnny wasn't looking, was not good for their relationship. And while the option of just telling Stéphane's mum remained, that certainly wouldn't be good for their relationship either.

At one point, his inner turmoil was big enough that he couldn't sleep for a whole night. He sat in the kitchen, on the counter by the window, drinking hot milk and nibbling on a cookie, staring out through the glass at the snow flakes dancing in the street lamps and thought that this was probably what those big writers of the past must have had in mind when they wrote their tragedies. Picking between pestilence and cholera wasn't really an upbeat choice.

It was around three am when the light flickered on and he saw his mom standing in the doorway, wearing her old flannel pyjamas, a thick sweater around her shoulders.

"Johnny," she said surprised. "What are you doing up at this hour? You have school tomorrow!"

Johnny shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. It's so pretty outdoors."

"Oh." There was a beat of silence, then she asked, "Why couldn't you sleep?" Slowly, she went to the water boiler and started it up to probably make herself some tea.

"Why can't you?"

She smiled. "Too many thoughts. The new project is giving me a headache."

"Yeah," Johnny mumbled. "Same feeling, different problem."

She sat down at the table, mug in her hand as the boiler started to blubber furiously. He could feel her gaze on his back, but he had no intention of turning towards her to meet it. He didn't want to talk about it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" his mom asked, concerned. "You've been looking tired."

"Hm." Johnny wondered if it was his conscience keeping him awake. He didn't like to admit it to himself, but he hated lying to people. He'd never told Stéphane about his visit to Alexandra a week ago and about what he'd found out, never told him that he'd lied about that weekend.

He was lying to everyone, too, telling them all was fine when it wasn't. He was developing a personality trait here he wasn't especially proud of, and it was bugging him. It angered him even more knowing that he was actually doing it for someone else - but then, that was unfair. He was doing it for himself, too, for his relationship with Stéphane. "Sometimes," he mused out loud, "I wonder if certain things are worth it. You know. To keep up a relationship."

His mom gave him an inquiring, rather gentle glance. "Did you have an argument with Stéphane?"

"No," Johnny said softly. "I didn't."

There was a bout of silence, then she said, thoughtful, "I'm not sure. It depends how you feel about the relationship. What you're willing to sacrifice for it, and what you're absolutely not giving up."

"Isn't a perfect relationship supposed to work out without sacrifices?" Johnny uttered.

"A perfect relationship would be one where both parties are the perfect fit in personality while wanting the exact same things from life. I don't think such a thing exists, myself. If you want a relationship to work, you have to make it work. And yes, it helps if you share and want the same things, but it's hard to figure out if that is the case _before_ you get together with the other person. It's why so many relationships end up breaking apart, in the end." There was a little note in her voice.

Johnny looked up. "I don't want to break up with Stéphane," he said. "And I don't mind making some sacrifices. But... is it weird that we don't tell each other stuff?" He felt strange, discussing this, in such general terms, when usually, he wasn't exactly bashful about telling his mother details. But this was different. He didn't think he really wanted her to know what was going on. He wanted this for himself. Maybe that was pathetic, but he liked it that way.

"It's natural, I think. There is no person in the world you'll want to share everything with. There are always things that will stay your own forever. And your relationship is still so young, Johnny. You can't expect complete honesty from the very beginning. There will be things either of you might not want to give away for fear of... embarrassing yourself, or repulsion, or just because it might reveal a personality trait you think the other might not like."

"But it's... it's so difficult to know what to do when you don't have all the facts... right?"

The boiler gave a low click and his mom got up and made herself a tea. Steam rose over the cup as she replied. "This will sound like I'm trying to get out of this conversation with a badly-worded cliché, but if you feel you have to act about something, maybe it would be best to talk to Stéphane about it?"

"He isn't talking about it." Johnny heard his own voice, bitingly cool. "Believe me. He can be a stubborn little bitch."

"Mouth, Johnny." She raised her eyebrows in gentle rebuke.

"Sorry. But he is!"

"I'll take your word for it." She sighed, took a sip. "You're not going to tell me what the drama's about, are you?"

Johnny looked away, shaking his head.

"And you can't just let it rest - no. I figured you couldn't." She gave him a long look. "I can't help you. I'm sorry; I know parents are supposed to know the answer to every question and solve all problems of the world, but I'll have to disappoint you on this one."

"It's okay," Johnny mumbled. "I didn't expect you to. It's like one of those maths problems anyway - unsolvable."

"Maybe it's not as bad as you think. Maybe it just... needs some time."

"Hm-hm." Johnny shrugged. "I'll stay up a bit for a while, if that's okay. I don't feel like going to sleep yet."

"You'll be very tired tomorrow. You're not skipping school, you know that, right?"

"I'll nap a bit after school. It's no big deal."

His mom frowned. "Weren't you going to go Christmas shopping tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah." Johnny sighed. "The day after, then. I didn't - yeah. Look, I know this is not really - but it's Friday the day after and I know that Stéphane wanted to do something with me and, do you think I could stay the night? With him?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If the two of you are in trouble, sleeping together isn't the best -"

"We're not sleeping together!" Johnny protested quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up. Then added, "not yet anyway."

His mom gave him a long look, put her empty cup in the sink and nodded, finally. "Be responsible, Johnny," she added, coming over to give him a tight squeeze.

Johnny accepted it gracefully and sighed into the warmth, then returned to watching the snowflakes from the dark inside of the kitchen, lights out again.

 

~*~

 

"How about this one?" Johnny grabbed a ball and tried kicking it with his knee up. Instead, it hit the side of his leg and bounced off, towards a stand with barbie dolls. "Whoops," he winced.

Stéphane snorted. "One would think you'd be good with balls -"

"- but then, someone's not letting me practice."

Stéphane flushed. "I deserved that, didn't I?" he asked sheepishly.

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "Yep." Then his shoulders slumped. "I can't get him another soccer ball. He's been getting those from me for forever!"

"Twice."

"Like I said. Forever."

Stéphane punched his shoulder. "Come on, idiot. Let's see what else they have. He likes computer games, right? Why not get him one of those?"

Johnny shrugged. "He'll be getting some from the parents, probably. And they're expensive." He looked up. "Why can't I have your sister? She always loves to get books."

"Yeah." Stéphane smiled. "She was easy this year. Don't start about Christophe, though. Good thing I found out he needed a new wallet and he's been going on about that designer crap forever -"

"What did you get me?" Johnny batted his eyelashes. He hadn't expected the question to raise another blush to his boyfriend's cheeks. "Is it dirty? It's probably dead perverted! What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on!"

"No, really. I haven't got you anything yet."

Johnny grinned. "Liar."

"C'mon, focus."

"We've been going through this part of the store for hours now! Let's go somewhere fun. Let's go buy clothes! I got some money from my mom, I want jeans. I think."

"I'm not going clothes-shopping with you again." Stéphane took a step back, eyes widening. "You can't make me!"

"But you love fashion-stuff! And you love seeing me naked -"

Stéphane grabbed his wrist, pulled him close and into one of the aisles, out of sight of the other customers. There, he kissed Johnny's cheek and muttered, "But not when you're teasing me by putting on hilariously tiny bits of clothing and forcing me to keep a distance, unable to _touch_."

"Oh, so you want to _touch_ ," Johnny grinned. His now un-gloved hand wandered over the waistband of Stéphane's jeans, up under his thick jacket and under his shirt, cool fingers sliding over the smooth skin of his belly. "I think we can arrange _some_ thing -"

"Not here," Stéphane hissed, a bit desperate. "Please, Johnny, I swear, if you don't get rid of that fetish of yours for groping in public -"

"You're gonna what?" Johnny licked a spot on his jaw languidly. "Fuck me right here?"

"Oh _God_ -"

With a smug grin, Johnny stepped back, out of reach. "All right. No teasing today," he promised, holding his hands up to show no crossed fingers. He tilted his head. "You coming now?"

Stéphane growled.

 

~*~

 

Two hours later and a good two hundred bucks poorer, Stéphane managed to drag Johnny out of the last clothing boutique on the main street.

"See?" Johnny pounced, thumping his arm. "It's easy! You just have to ask -"

Stéphane shot him a glare. "If there hadn't been a counter between you and him, you'd have been naked in there with your ass in the air!"

"But there was one, and I wasn't that, and I got thirty percent off those pants." He grinned. "Damn, I'm good."

Stéphane huffed. "If you for a _second_ think I'm going to carry those bags for you -"

"Don't be jealous," Johnny smiled, aligning the bags on his right arm. Then he caught up with Stéphane and fumbled with his left hand until his fingers were entwined with Stéphane's between their bodies. "You know it was just an act. He wasn't even my type!"

"Well, I didn't like it," Stéphane said, but his grip was warm and tight and he held on for dear life.

"However, I like the discount very much," Johnny grinned.

Stéphane sighed. "And I guess that's all that matters."

 

~*~

 

Stéphane did, in the end, help Johnny carry the bags home before they took off again, leaving Brian sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, watching some teenage sap romance that Johnny couldn't stop teasing him about.

"You should really cut him some slack," Stéphane pointed out when they were out of the door again and on their way to Stéphane's house.

"Who? Brian?"

"I guess. He's a really good brother. He could be a complete jerk about us being together, but he's being great, supportive and he's never said a bad word."

Johnny gave him a suspicious look. "What's the outburst about?"

Stéphane straightened his shoulders. "Nothing."

"Look, if there's something -"

"I'm just saying. It doesn't matter."

"Don't clam up on me -"

"I'm not! I - it was just a stupid thought that came to me in that moment. Forget it."

"I can't forget stuff that easily, it's not fair of you to expect me to just not care!"

"How's your dad, anyway," Stéphane interrupted. "Is he going to be home for Christmas, do you think?"

Johnny glared. Then he let out a long breath and closed his eyes for a second, before he dropped it. "He's fine," he said. "Getting better. His physical therapy is doing wonders, and you know dad. Likes to push and prod until everything's working properly again."

"That's nice."

"Yeah," Johnny said. "It is."

They walked quietly the rest of the way, and Johnny wondered a few times if it would be too much to grab Stéphane's hand here - there were people walking by, not many, but the occasional snow-sweeper before their house, people trying to get into their cars, or walking towards one of the bus stations.

It was warm inside the house, a nice change from the cool air outside. Johnny touched his nose curiously and felt its numbness. "It's horribly red, isn't it?" he lamented.

Stéphane snorted. "You're a vain, vain peacock."

"Yeah, well. There should be laws against red noses outside of Red-Nose-Day. There should be nose-warmers."

"And think how funny that would look!"

"You're just lucky because yours isn't red," Johnny pointed out, helping him out of his thick jacket. "Are you warm? Your fingers are icy."

"I need new gloves," Stéphane sighed. "Yours kept yours warm, I can see."

"Hey," Chris shouted from the stairs. "No groping in the hallways!"

"We weren't!" Stéphane flushed. "He was helping me get out of my jacket!"

"And other things, I imagine," Chris grinned. "But guys, not in the hallway, right?"

Johnny beamed. "I'll make sure to corner him in the kitchen next time."

"Put a sock on the door."

"You two are disgusting!" Stéphane glared. "Cut it out."

"Prude," Chris coughed into his fist.

Johnny made his way up the stairs towards Stéphane's room, not without saying, "I really, really like your brother sometimes."

Stéphane didn't seem too happy to hear it. Johnny considered cutting back on the flirting, and decided in the end not to - it was more fun this way. And really, it wasn't like he was serious about anyone else.

 

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

"So, what's happening at Casa Lambiel these days?" Johnny grinned up at him, laying on his back, arms crossed behind his head.

Stéphane rolled his eyes. "You should really stop with the Spanish-attempts at some point. Whoever gave you the idea that your pronounciation is even remotely correct?"

"Nobody," Johnny shrugged. Another grin lit up his face. "It sounds sexy though when I say it."

Stéphane patted his cheek. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetie."

"God, you sound like your mom!"

"I do?"

"A little."

"Enough that when I do this -?" Stéphane leaned over and kissed him on the lips, "- you won't get turned on?" His fingers had already snuck down to the front of Johnny's pants, boldly pressing against the material.

Johnny bucked his hips against the pressure, gave a tiny moan into Stéphane's mouth. "You know," he muttered into the kisses, "You really shouldn't do that if you don't plan to follow up on it."

"Who said anything about not following up?"

Johnny half sat-up, hindered only by the still firmly planted hand on his dick. "Stéphane -"

"What?" he grinned. "Don't come from the excitement."

Johnny narrowed his eyes. "Why now?"

Stéphane shrugged. "Why not now? We've been building up to it for multiple weeks now. And I really had fun today. What with the whole - making out behind every available cover - and some without a cover. And - we did have fun, right? And today felt - right. It hasn't felt that right for a while." He shrugged again. "By nobody's fault, it was just - but now, it's good." He smiled shyly. "Right?"

Johnny grinned. "And seeing me naked got you all hot and bothered."

"There was that, yes," Stéphane admitted sheepishly. "But - I - you can stay the night, right? And I want to. Kind of." He looked a little hesitant. "At least I think I want to. I'm a bit..."

He'd taken his hand off Johnny, a move that wasn't to his liking _at all_ , but Johnny bore with it, pushed aside the urging need to shout for Stéphane to get his hand back on his cock and start _doing_ something about it - instead he took a deep breath, gulped it down like a huge glass of ice cold water. "Okay," he finally said.

Stéphane smiled. "Just okay?"

"Brilliant," Johnny corrected. "Amazing. That, you know, my balls haven't fallen off yet."

"There's no need to get all crass," came the glare back.

"I wasn't being!" Johnny protested. "It was a statement of fact. And you were saying about the sex -"

"I don't know. What do we do?" Stéphane looked around his rather simple boy's-room helplessly. "Do you want me to change something?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Johnny frowned. "What would you change? Why would you - what does that even mean?"

Stéphane flushed. "I just - well, I talked to my sister about it -"

"You talked about sex with Silvia? Isn't she off at college -?"

"Over the phone! And it wasn't details! Don't be stupid."

Johnny stared. "I was just surprised, that's all. I didn't mean to imply that you shouldn't talk to people about it. What did she say, then?"

Stéphane shrugged. "That I need to set an atmosphere, or something. She might have mentioned candles. And roses?"

Johnny stared at him for a while, inwardly willing him to come out and shout "just kidding!", but Stéphane continued gazing at him rather awkward, and completely serious. It was enough to send Johnny over the edge, cracking up with laughter.

"What?" Stéphane asked, defensive.

"I just - oh, you - really?" Johnny snorted and another wave of laughter followed. "You're not trying to _seduce_ me. You already have me! In your bed! And I've been waiting for you to ask me to take my pants off for weeks!"

"I don't know what you have against a nice atmosphere," Stéphane huffed.

Johnny blinked. "Well," he admitted. "Nothing. Remind me to take you for a bath some time."

And that, finally, did the trick to reel in the conversation back to the sex again. Stéphane seemed to honestly consider the offer for a second before he discarded it with red ears and instead laid down on the bed again, his front aligned with Johnny's side, who was still lying comfortably on his back.

"Better," Johnny smiled. He slid his hands underneath Stéphane's shirt, pulling it up along with the caress up his side and stomach, over his smooth ribs, thumbs brushing nipples, making Stéphane gasp beneath his hands. "We can just... do what we always do," he mumbled, shifting even closer, kissing Stéphane's lower lip. "And go from there. If you - you know. You don't have to. Just because you said."

"You'll be -"

"- very frustrated and unable to sleep without jerking off in the bathroom, but I'll manage. Right?"

Stéphane pushed his tongue into Johnny's mouth, laughing a bit at the same time, and then they had to part so that Johnny was able to take the shirt off him, with a bit of help, lifting it over his head.

"Your hair's all floppy now," he snorted.

"Well, look at yours," Stéphane glared and helped Johnny out of his top, making sure to do it quickly and reposition his fingertips back on his flat stomach, drawing a pattern on his skin. "Can I?" he asked, nodding towards his stomach, flicking his tongue out at the little patch where his last ribs met.

It tickled, a little, feeling the rough slide of the tongue against his body, but Johnny tried not to giggle too much while Stéphane's hands explored and his tongue licked circles on his smooth chest, ribbones, abs, dipping into his bellybutton occasionally, which made his blood go straight to his cock, erection growing, covered by his pants.

"Is this okay?" he mumbled, nipping, and Johnny nodded quickly, breathless, "Uh-huh," echoing in the room.

"Do you want me to - get your pants off?" Stéphane asked. He was smirking. "That looks uncomfortable."

Johnny gave him an annoyed look. "Like you're any better."

"Shhh," Stéphane's hand found his cheek and he kissed him, long and careful, tongues working against each other, curling in Johnny's mouth, rough and warm. His hand was fumbling with Johnny's pants, button popped, then the zipper, and they had to part from the kiss so that Johnny could push them past his hips and down his legs.

"Huh."

"What?" Johnny raised an eyebrow.

"I just - surprised," Stéphane grinned. "I figured you'd be the type for strange underwear?"

Johnny stuck out his tongue. "Didn't think we were gonna do this today, did I? Otherwise I'd have gotten something nice for you."

"I don't mind. This is nice," Stéphane smiled, pecking his lips. "And you look great in white."

"They're plain."

"They're underwear. They'll be off in a second."

"It's the impression they leave," Johnny argued.

"Don't worry," Stéphane snorted. "You leave a fabulous impression. On everything."

"Don't you have anything better to do than to examine my underwear?" Johnny prompted impatiently.

"Like?"

"Getting out of yours?"

"I'm supposed to do that on my own?"

"What do you expect?" Johnny grinned. "That I do it with my teeth?"

Stéphane's breath caught in his throat, imagining Johnny's mouth near _there_. "No," he mumbled, reddening from the images shooting through his brain, of Johnny's tongue on his cock, licking him, taking him in his mouth.

"You totally want me to blow you," Johnny laughed.

"Well, who doesn't," Stéphane defended himself. "And it's - strange. Isn't it. I think I'll feel strange being all naked."

"Aw, don't be," Johnny pulled him on top of himself, helping him with the pants, pushing them down quickly before Stéphane could protest. "It'll be good, I promise. You jerk off as often as the next guy, I bet, so this won't be much different - just better."

"And you know so much about this how?"

Johnny glared. "I'm not saying anything anymore if you're set on being a stupid dork and stiffling any progress we make. Or speed we pick up, for that matter."

Stéphane wiggled his jeans off at least and let them fall off the edge of the bed. "Better?"

"Much."

"Great. Now, c'mere." Stéphane kissed him - again, lots of tongue and touching his shoulder and collarbone and his hand found its place on Johnny's jaw, lightly brushing the skin beneath his ear as he ate into Johnny's mouth, licking him deeply and thoroughly.

"You do love the kissing part, no kidding," Johnny panted after, breathless. But before Stéphane could reply, he moved, repositioned them both by pulling Stéphane fully on top of himself with a tug, letting his legs fall open. Stéphane's eyes grew huge as he settled between them, their cocks brushing with just the slight material of underwear between them.

"Oh, oh, oh," he whispered, moving a little.

"Good?" Johnny asked, blinking up at him, trying to concentrate on anything that wasn't his dick getting incredibly, painfully hard the instant they settled.

" _Amazing_ ," Stéphane hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked like he was ready to bite through his lip, frown on his forehead, fighting to keep something at bay.

"You coming?" Johnny teased a little, gasped when Stéphane _shoved_ his hips forward, into Johnny's own, increasing the contact ten-fold.

The room seemed to grow tiny around them, stifling, all the air gone, and Johnny could smell boysweat and the scent of Stéphane's body and both their excitement at the touching and rubbing and he rocked up to meet another thrust, feeling Stéphane's hands settle on his hips to help him out, stable him against the sudden motions of back-and-forth.

There was a taste in his mouth that was close to completion, but he couldn't place it and reached up to cross his arms behind Stéphane's back, pulling him in for another kiss. He couldn't breathe, but that wasn't so important anymore, all that was important was to have Stéphane's tongue in his mouth, thrusting in and out with the rhythm of their hips clashing together, and of their erections brushing, hot and hard between their bodies.

Stéphane's fingers kept slipping off his hips and he cursed a bit, into his mouth, wanting the underwear gone.

"Off," he muttered when Stéphane went for a breath, and Stéphane scrambled, backwards, and Johnny was all, "No, no, come _back_ , fuck," until he realized Stéphane had understood perfectly and got rid of his own and then of Johnny's underwear with two well-placed, economical motions that took a minimum of time and energy.

"Oh, fuck," he hissed when he finally settled back. Stéphane's fingers traced the smooth skin of the insides of Johnny's thighs, rubbing the flesh there, perfect in his hands, and Johnny just wanted to him go back to the rhythm they'd found before, wanted him to return to that, to the thrusting and the rocking.

"C'mon," he urged, pulling Stéphane in by the back of his neck, fingers hard and unrelenting. He could see perfectly, the hugeness of Stéphane's eyes, the wide pupils, blown out of proportion, the hunger in his gaze as their bodies merged, skin gluing together from the sweat of the exertion.

"Shit," Stéphane mumbled, biting his lower lip, and closed his eyes again, then opened them to look at Johnny. "Shit, you're - god, I just - you shouldn't - just, please, please, please, move!"

"Oh, fuck me," Johnny snarled again, crossing his ankles behind Stéphane's back, pulling him in closer, deeper, tighter. His hand was settled on Stéphane's back, running up and down, trying to find something to _grab onto_ , and then, when it was almost too much, the feeling of pressure in his belly, the pleasure, the ecstasy, the hotness of his dick too powerful, he clutched and let his nails bury into Stéphane's back, gripping him even closer.

One thrust more, two, a third one, and he was gone, finally, a release of something inside him, breaking, but better, much better, like a torrent ripping free, and he could only gasp and moan and felt Stéphane whine a little in pain at the nails scratching over his back, but - Johnny couldn't quite find the braincell to make a mental note - the pain seemed to make it better, somehow, because then Stéphane gave a rather embarrassingly loud moan and smashed their bodies together once more and came, quite a lot, before he collapsed onto Johnny, a bit too heavy to be comfortable.

Johnny breathed harshly, tried to get more air into his lugs, tried to regain a sense of up and down. The heaviness on his chest blocked him, hampered the sense of being able to breathe, but the warmth that radiated from Stéphane's body, the heat, the scent, it made him want to keep it close, so he didn't let go, instead let his arms and legs fall down and to the sides in a full-body cross.

"That was..." Stéphane whimpered, burying his face in Johnny's shoulder, sucking in air, again and again.

"Intense," Johnny finished, trying to get the sweat out of his eyes by just blinking, because he couldn't be bothered to move.

"Are you okay?" Stéphane asked, finally, a good five minutes later of quiet breathing and fighting to keep consciousness.

"Brilliant," Johnny nodded, just a fraction of his usual head-movement.

"Great," Stéphane groaned. "Because if anyone heard us, we'll be so screwed."

That startled a laugh out of Johnny. "You were the one wailing like a cat in heat!" he teased.

"Oh?" Stéphane snorted. "I wasn't yelling obscene words all over the place at least."

"I didn't!" Johnny protested.

Stéphane gave a long-suffering sigh, lifted himself up on his elbows to be able to look Johnny in the eyes and grimaced. "Let me think... oh, right - 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, damn it, fuck, goddamn fucking hell, shit, let me, _please_ , oh _fuck_!' -"

"Stop it!" Johnny felt himself blush hot enough to radiate heat. "I didn't say that!"

Stéphane rolled off him and broke out into laughter. "Not so bad, no," he admitted. "But it was fun catching you out."

"Bastard."

Stéphane grinned smugly.

"I love you," Johnny added thoughtfully. "You know that, right?"

Stéphane turned over to face him, on his side, hand under his head, propped up on his elbow. His smile was so radiant that Johnny thought it might be louder than his moans had been.

"... everyone's gonna know you got laid if you keep grinning like that," he commented idly, but he didn't get further because Stéphane rolled his eyes and pulled him in for another kiss.

"Your post-orgasmic glow? Sucks," he added.

 

~*~

 

"Hey..." Johnny mumbled, blinked, awakening to the scent of a naked body against his, curled up close. It was warm - he was warm - and there was a hand in his hair, fingers tangled with dark strands, while the fingers of the other were at his back, holding him in tight embrace.

He buried his face in Stéphane's shoulder, took another breath of air and licked a little at the salty skin, unable to keep himself from shivering in pleasure at the fact that he was actually allowed now. That they were really, really doing this. It made his breath quicken, made excitement race through his chest, heartbeat faster and strong as a horse's.

His dick was half-hard, brushing up against Stéphane's beneath the light cover. Johnny shifted, stiffened when the friction grew and let out a little moan. Damnit, he shouldn't be turned on again - they'd just had sex. But then again, one could never have too much sex.

He told his body to behave and moved even closer, inhumanly close, almost impossible for their bodies to be glued together more without becoming one single entity, and his arm, slung across Stéphane's back, slipped, his nails gripping at the small of his back, at smooth skin there. Johnny smiled fondly as he opened his eyes and glanced at Stéphane's sleeping face, calm, softened impossibly by a dream. He didn't twitch when Johnny let his hand wander up and down his back, caressing him like one would a cat's arching back.

He kept at it, ran his fingertips over the shoulderblades, mapping every little up and down, counted the bumps on his spine, followed its beautiful curve, tracing idly, until he arrived at Stéphane's tailbone. He shivered again from the implication of what he was _doing_ , this intimate, touches like little butterflies, gasped a little at the thought of trailing lower, following down, moving his fingers over his ass, rubbing the little spot just above -

Stéphane gave a purr and stretched languidly. Johnny almost rolled out of the bed in surprise, was caught by the strenght of Stéphane's grip around his waist.

"Whoa," the other boy blinked at him, sleepy. "Where're you going?"

"Nowhere," Johnny flushed, scurrying closer again, pressing them chest to chest. The gasp Stéphane gave was pleasing and made him smile. "I was just surprised. You're up already."

"Already," Stéphane chuckled, voice rough from sleep and renewed arousal. "Have you bothered to look at the alarm clock by the bed?"

Johnny turned his head. "Oh," he said, and then, louder, " _oh_!"

"Good thing we locked the door," Stéphane grinned. "Mom was probably up here to call us for dinner earlier."

"It's past eight!" Johnny marvelled. "How did that happen?" A glance at the window showed complete darkness. "We weren't at it for that long -!"

Stéphane snorted. "Nice try, Johnny." His hips were rocking a little against Johnny's, not real movements, just a tiny motion that still set off fires all over Johnny's body because it brushed their cocks together once every half-second.

"We - ah - do we have to get up?"

"Do you want to?"

Johnny returned his hand to Stéphane's back and pulled himself flush by the leverage alone. "I -" he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn't lose it and come from just this. "Shit, that - we really, really -"

"- should get this out of the system before we go down," Stéphane agreed, lifting Johnny's chin to kiss his lips, opening his mouth with his tongue.

And, well, there was no arguing with _that_ , for obvious reasons. Also, Johnny thought, satisfied, he kind of had his mouth and his hands full.

 

~*~

 

Johnny wouldn't have thought it was possible - it had never worked when he'd tried jerking off multiple times in a row, but he did manage to orgasm a second time; after that, it kind of hurt when his dick twitched again: he'd tumbled off Stéphane after they were both finished and Stéphane's hand had brushed over his groin by accident.

"Don't," he muttered, grimacing. "Wow, we won't be doing that again right now."

Stéphane stared. "You wanted to go _again_?"

"No!"

"Can't say I'm not glad to hear that." There was a snort of laughter.

"I'm kind of hungry."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved.

Johnny grinned at the ceiling. "I could get used to this. The buzz. Feels... nice."

Stéphane touched his cheek - kissed his cheek, lock of hair falling against Johnny's nose, making him half-sneeze - and said, "Also, messy. Shower, first. And then food."

"You're spoiling the glow," Johnny complained.

"You were the one asking for food."

"I was hoping you'd bring it to me. Being the loving boyfriend and all that."

"Brat," Stéphane threw at him, swinging his legs over Johnny's, sitting up on his thighs, knees left and right. He had his hands on Johnny's hips, running them up his sides until they came to rest on his ribs. "You're lucky you're so pretty. I wouldn't put up with that kind of attitude otherwise."

Johnny surged up and toppled him off the bed. He was up on his feet in two seconds, cackling, and yelled, "First to the shower gets to use up all the hot water!"

Stéphane swore.

 

~*~

 

They showered together, in the end - Stéphane rolled his eyes as if he'd known all along it would turn out that way - and dressed in Stéphane's room. Johnny got one of Stéphane's t-shirts and a loose pair of sweatpants. Stéphane, on the other hand, dressed in a set of zebra-striped pyjamas: there was no way Johnny could have refrained from making fun of that. So he did make fun, loudly and with the kind of silly hilarity that was a bit new and had to stem from the happily burning fire in his stomach.

They didn't even notice there was someone in the living room until they stumbled in through the adjoined hallway door, bantering.

"Wow," Chris yelped and yanked up his hands to cover his eyes. He was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the living room table, watching TV, and he'd been just about to bite into his sandwich. "The fucking glow's blinding me." Pause. "With emphasis on the fucking."

"Don't be a bitch," Johnny laughed. "It's not that bad."

"You're holding hands," Chris pointed out, waving his right hand while his left still covered his eyes. "It's disgusting."

Stéphane pulled his shoulders in and let go of Johnny's hand immediately, fisting it at his side.

"Don't," Johnny quickly interfered, grabbed for his fingers to get them back entwined with his own. "He's just teasing."

"It's not funny," Stéphane muttered.

Chris, not quite as oblivious as he appeared, noted the strange tension suddenly in the room and dropped the act. His eyes took in Stéphane's strained expression and body-language and he sighed. "I didn't mean it like that, you have to know that, Stéphane. C'mon, cheer up. I'm really glad you finally got laid." He grinned.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Because that's helping."

"Sorry!"

Stéphane slumped. "Oh, goddamn it, fine. Leave me alone. I know you didn't mean it, it's just a sore spot."

"Want me to come over and hug you?" Chris grinned impishly. "I can do a mean hug!"

"I bet!" Johnny laughed. "But we were actually trying to find some dinner - and don't _even_ say what you were wanting to say, Mister!"

Chris's mouth snapped shut. "I wasn't. I swear."

"Suuure."

"Dinner," Stéphane pointed out rather dryly, "is not going to appear in front of us in the living room. Johnny, kitchen. Now!"

"Ooooh, bossy," Johnny smirked.

"No sex-related innuendo, please," Stéphane slapped his butt.

Chris groaned, but didn't comment. "Mom'll make you something. Or maybe even did already. Though maybe you shouldn't fall through the door making out; we have a guest."

"We - at this hour - who -?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Who do _you_ think?" He smiled. "Though knock in case _they_ 're doing it on the kitchen counter like a pair of -"

"- okay, okay, that's quite enough insight into your deranged brain. Hell, Christophe, get a grip!"

"Shhh," Johnny said, trying to rub his upper arm. "Don't kill him, lover-boy. He was -"

"- just teasing, I know, I fucking know already." Stéphane pushed him away, glared and took off towards the kitchen.

"Touchy," Chris commented, scowling at the TV.

"I take it from your laid-back reaction he's been walking around like a wounded bear a lot lately?" Johnny inquired, watching Stéphane vanish through the door into the kitchen.

"Insufferable. I thought you might be able to loosen him up -" Johnny felt himself flush at the knowing grin, "- but unfortunately, no luck. What's his problem?"

A sigh. "I wish I could tell you. Just let me know if you see something strange, please?"

"Sure thing." Something fell to the floor in the kitchen with a loud clank and they heard a loud smash of shattering glass. Chris winced.

Johnny frowned. "What the fuck?!"

"Oh, just watch."

Johnny did, two seconds, then he heard the door to the hallway slam open, slam shut and quick footsteps as he saw a flash of Stéphane who vanished, ran up the stairs.

"That sound... was that him?" Johnny stared.

Chris gave him a lopsided smile. "Well, he has to get it out of his system _some_ way. And as you might have noticed - people in this family? Don't fight."

"Right." Johnny hit himself in the forehead with his palm a few times. "I'm guessing he'll be steaming when I go up there now?"

"I wouldn't," Chris snorted. "If you're lucky, you'll just get a book to the head." He tilted his head to the side. "Wonder what it was this time."

"What was it last time?"

"Uh, there was... I think that was the bit where Kennedy bought a week's worth of vacation time in the Caribbean for mum and him to enjoy -"

Johnny's eyebrows went up. "Sounds expensive."

"Believe me, I know." Chris shrugged. "He's a good guy, though. And whatever makes her happy, right? She's had it hard enough."

Johnny wanted to reply something to that, but hit his tongue. "I'll just go get something to eat for us then and ask if I can take it upstairs. He'll want dinner soon enough, he'll have to let me in then."

"Good plan." Chris gave him a thumb up and turned back to the TV. Johnny just hoped he was right about that.

 

~*~

 

He entered the kitchen cautiously, almost afraid to get into something he wouldn't be able to extract himself out of quite as gracefully as he usually did - but while the atmosphere was rather awkard, he didn't think he was in mortal danger taking another step inside.

"Johnny," Mrs. Lambiel greeted him warmly and straightened up a little. She'd been sitting hunched over, talking in quiet voice to her boyfriend. "I'm sorry, Stéphane just stormed out. Did you want something to eat?"

"Yeah," Johnny said, feeling himself blush. "I didn't mean to interrupt, and I won't keep you for long, I wanted to ask if I could take maybe a sandwich or so upstairs. He... uh, he might be hungry."

For a moment, he thought Mrs. Lambiel would grow angry and say that if they wanted to eat, they should do it down in the kitchen and behave themselves like proper adults - but then her gaze softened and she nodded. "Of course. I made some earlier, but - well. They're in the fridge."

Johnny wandered over and opened it, saw the plate that was stacked pretty high with bread. "Thank you," he muttered. "I'm sorry we didn't show up earlier."

"You boys really shouldn't lock the door," Russell mentioned casually. "What if something had happened and we couldn't get inside?"

Johnny felt himself heat up once more. But aside from the palpable embarrassment, there was also a little curling sensation of anger at the pit of his stomach. "We didn't exactly want anyone to walk in on us," he said bravely, not breaking eye-contact. "I'm sorry, but - well, we're kind of together, so there's stuff, there'll always be stuff... we want to keep just between the two of us."

Mrs. Lambiel was looking a little bit uncomfortable by now, too. "It's fine," she quickly said. "Just be careful, all right? Not just -" her face reddened, "- with sex, there are other things too. We - ah, we had a little accident with a knocked-over candle that one time and -"

"We're careful," Johnny promised quickly, interrupting her. "And no candles. Swear." He was clutching the plate of sandwiches for dear life, wanting to kind of leave, right now. Still, there was another thing bothering him. "Uh," he said, trying to find the words. It seemed easiest to just go, in the end. "Is Stéphane all right?" he asked.

Mrs. Lambiel gave him an odd look and he could have sworn he saw Mr. Russell's face tighten at the question.

"I mean," Johnny hurried on, ignoring his heart that was beating high in his throat, "I kind of heard a glass break and I thought - is he? All right?"

"We... mh, we've been having a few disagreements lately," Mrs. Lambiel finally elaborated. "Nothing too serious, and he's behaving quite silly -"

"- but that's to be expected. He's a teenager after all."

"I do hope I raised him a little better than to throw a tantrum like a child at his age," Mrs. Lambiel protested, giving Russell a quick glare. "He has no business exploding over... things," she finished lamely.

Johnny glanced from one to the other, feeling helpless. "I don't understand," he sighed.

"Don't worry," Russell said, raising his immaculate eyebrows and giving him a cool look that made it clear he didn't appreciate Johnny asking and that Johnny was dismissed. "It's quite frankly none of your business," he added when Johnny didn't move.

Johnny swallowed, but gave in. "I'll go see if he's feeling better. Should I tell him -"

"- it's fine," Mrs. Lambiel shook her head. "You boys go to sleep. It doesn't matter."

Johnny didn't quite believe it and he was fairly sure, from the significant glance they shared, that this - whatever this was - was going to be talked about as soon as Johnny was out of the house, but he had no other choice, so he left with a soft "Good Night" at his wake.

Upstairs, he found the door to Stéphane's room locked. Squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing his right over them while he kept a hold of the plate of sandwiches with his left, he thought maybe this really wasn't worth all the trouble. Any other boyfriend would have just let it go, let Stéphane deal with it himself and told himself that it was, like Russell had so quaintly said, none of his business.

But then, Johnny wasn't anyone, and he kind of didn't want Stéphane to be unhappy. So he couldn't bugger off about it. And also, he was really curious now. So he collected himself, licked his lips and knocked at the door.

"Fuck off," Stéphane said, voice muffled.

"C'mon, it's me." Johnny knocked again. "And I have food."

He wasn't sure if it was the first or the second that did it, but there were hesitant footsteps nearing the door and the Stéphane pulled him inside, closing it again.

"What was that all about?" Johnny asked, frowning.

"Nothing," Stéphane mumbled, grabbed a sandwich and retreated back to the bed. "Nothing at all."

Johnny sighed. "Like hell it was nothing."

Stéphane looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "If you don't want me to choke you to death with a pillow, drop it."

"You just try," Johnny shot back. "Like I can't take you on any time I choose."

It would have been funny to actually see the attempt, but Stéphane just flopped back onto his bed with a sigh and said, "Fuck you, I'm too lazy. I just want to sleep."

"Stéphane -"

"Goddamnit, Johnny, why can't you just drop it?"

"Because you're supposed to share."

"Am I?"

"Yeah." Johnny put the plate on Stéphane's desk and moved beside him, laying down at his side, pulling him close. "C'mon, you can tell me. Anything, you know that."

"Anything, huh?" Stéphane's dark eyes turned on him, watching him with a strange expression. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Telling me everything?"

Johnny made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "This is not about me. Everyone has secrets. But this is making you sulky and moody and I have to put up with it, so don't you dare telling me it has nothing to do with me. Just fucking spill! You said today felt right; it won't be that way again if you don't stop being all... distant and shit. And I know you, you won't be in the mood to have sex again either if it doesn't 'feel' right, and that would be a fucking shame, because I love having sex with you, okay?"

Stéphane reddened happily. "Oh, fine. You and your stupid logical arguments -"

Johnny grinned and nuzzled his neck. "C'mon," he prodded.

"So - you were in the kitchen. Didn't you notice it?"

"What?" Johnny blinked.

Stéphane took a deep breath. "He gave her a fucking ring."

The clock ticked on as silence stretched. A minute passed, then another one, harsh breathing on Johnny's cheek. "Oh," he finally said.

"I - don't think it _means_ anything, yet," Stéphane muttered. "She'd have said if it was - you know. But -"

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Johnny murmured and touched his cheek, feeling discomfort rise in his chest.

He kissed Stéphane, slowly, pushed with his tongue, his whole body, for deepness and intimacy, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt his own body grow tense at the thoughts suddenly swirling in his head; and then he made a decision.

He let go of Stéphane's lips, of Stéphane's body curled around his own and tried to leave as much of his own dignity intact as he lifted his chin and said, "Ah, look... while we're at it... you should know that, well. Uhm. That... there are a few things, a few, really, that I haven't really told you about, just yet."

 

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

Johnny squirmed under Stéphane's inquisitive gaze, but didn't try to evade it. "Look," he said rather calmly, as self-assured as he was able to. He wasn't trying to excuse himself, after all. He was just trying to explain. "I know you wanted me to drop it, but please, don't be mad at me for trying to find out what's going on. I thought you wouldn't ever tell me, so I figured, why not check whether I can find something out myself... right?"

Stéphane gave him a suspicious look, sat up and on his knees, cocking his head to the side. "What did you do?"

"I talked to Alexandra."

He counted the seconds in his head, biting his lower lip, staring into the silence as multiple expressions raced over Stéphane's face, ranging from anger to curiosity to hurt and finally settled on disappointment.

He'd thought he'd feel lighter after saying it, but he didn't. Instead, his insides felt heavier and he found himself hoping and praying that Stéphane wouldn't run away. He was allowed to explode in anger - it would be a quick burst of rage, and over - but if he ran away, it would be days, weeks of avoiding and hurt feelings and silent-treatment again, and at this point, Johnny really wasn't sure if he wouldn't just give his boyfriend a 'fuck you' and leave until he calmed down. And that would hurt like a bitch, but he didn't know what else to do.

"Right," Stéphane finally said. "I... uh, I haven't seen her recently."

"I know." Johnny tried to edge closer and touch, but Stéphane immediately leaned away and glared.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, tell me what's going on!"

"Uh, let's see, I went to see her -"

"- you _what_?"

"Yeah. I kinda didn't think there was another way to get her to talk to me. So I went and met her."

"Why would you do a thing like that?" Stéphane asked, voice hoarse. "Why would you break your promise like that?"

"I didn't -"

"You _did_ , and don't even fucking try to split hairs with me right now, because words cannot express how angry I am with you! 's worth nothing to you, is it? You'll go and do whatever you want and the fact that I specifically asked you not to holds no meaning for you whatsoever. How can you walk over other people like that, Johnny? How can you _think_ that you know what's best for them and do it the way you think is right - which, obviously, _must_ be the universal right-thing-to-do, because you're Johnny Weir and obviously, you're always right."

"It's not like that," Johnny protested. "I didn't _do_ anything yet, I just needed to know -"

"You met her. Have you ever considered that I might not want you to meet her?"

"Why?" Johnny stared at him, challenge in his eyes. "What reason could there possibly be aside from some stupid power-kick you get out of keeping her for yourself?"

Stéphane flushed angrily. "Since you already know everything, why do I even try telling you anything?"

"Which is exactly the point! You don't! You don't tell me anything, so I have to go and look for the answers myself!"

"Answers, it's all about finding out and poking things and rummaging around in the dirt until you've got enough to satisfy your own morbid curiosity! I don't get you sometimes, Johnny. It's not so hard to just turn around on something and leave it be. To not ask, to not wonder. Just to _let it go_."

"Well, maybe it is hard for me," Johnny growled. "Maybe it is important to me to know stuff like that. Maybe I try to satisfy my fucking curiosity because I care about you, have you ever considered that?"

"Yeah, well. Maybe using your brain before you barge in somewhere, before you disturb everything, would be a good idea, huh?" Stéphane snapped. "Because I don't see you asking the right questions _or_ giving any of the right answers right now."

"I fucking know what's going on, all right?" Johnny yelled at him, shutting him up finally. He was breathing heavily. "I figured it out, you bastard, so stop taking my head off. I didn't do anything wrong!" And he almost had himself convinced when he said it.

Stéphane seemed less so, unfortuantely. "What have you figured out?"

"You're the reason she moved out, aren't you?" Johnny said softly, looking straight at him. "You made her realize she could and she did, and her father found out you convinved her, right?"

"I did not...!" But he was flushing again, this time because it was a very obvious and highly unconvincing lie.

"You did." Johnny didn't trust his voice not to break, so he kept speaking in fast, short little sentences, hurrying up so that Stéphane wouldn't be able to interrupted. "And he found out you were gay, he realized where his daughter'd finally found the conviction to get her own life and - I don't know. What did he tell you?"

"I thought you knew everything now?" Stéphane mocked. "Fuck you, Johnny, you don't know anything. She was miserable living with him, and who wouldn't be, and she wanted to, she just needed a little push. And she's been together with her girlfriend for years now, years! In secret! You might have perfect parents, but other people aren't so lucky."

"What the fuck?" Johnny glared. "I'm not judging. I don't fucking care! But it pisses me off that you're always harping on about my parents. What, like they weren't good to you? They like you, and you talk about them like they're shit!"

Stéphane paled. "I don't!" he quickly said. "I didn't mean to - I swear, there's no way I'd insult your parents, they're great people, you know that. What pisses me off is your naive attitude, the way you think that the world is all good and peachy!"

"Why does everybody keep saying that?" Johnny scowled. "I don't think that. I never thought that!"

"Yeah, well." Stéphane shrugged, voice dropping as his expression grew sullen. "That's not the way it looks to other people, have you ever thought of that?"

"No, because I don't spend my days thinking about what I look like to other people, all right? And you're changing the topic. What was it? What did he - oh, right. Shit."

Stéphane glared.

"She did say you hadn't - you haven't talked to her in a while, she told me that, and it's been a while since my visit, and you still haven't..."

"He told me not to meet up with her again, not to talk to her, and that he'd see to it that I'd keep the promise. I'm practically cut off. She might not live with him anymore, but he's still her guardian, so he can do that, too. And since I can't do anything about it..." Stéphane shrugged, but his face had fallen with badly suppressed hurt. "It's not like we're - you know that, right?" He looked up, eyes widening. "I'd never cheat! We're - we've become a bit like siblings over the past year, but I'd _never_!"

"'s okay," Johnny felt himself redden a bit. "I never thought that you'd cheat on me."

"Liar."

"So maybe the first second, but then I saw her and realized there is no way she's prettier than me and I was no longer worried."

Stéphane snorted. "Idiot." Then he moved close to Johnny again and touched his shoulder carefully. "You know why I didn't want you to meet her now, right? I mean, yeah, before, I could have - but it was all so new and I wanted her to myself a bit before - and then, he went and told me not to go near her again... and if he finds out _you_ were there, it might get us both in so much trouble."

"He just try to keep me from doing anything!"

"Johnny!" Stéphane's fingers around his shoulder tightened. "I don't want you to get in trouble about this."

"I'm not going to! How would I get into trouble here? It's not like I can do anything, can I?"

Stéphane gave him a suspicious look. "Sure. Like I believe that for a second."

"I still think you should talk to your mom. You can't let her... I don't know, marry an asshole like that! He's making your whole life miserable, he doesn't like gay people, he must have given you a right talking to about Alexandra and I don't like the way he treats you, even though he's great with your mom."

"And I'm telling you, I don't care! I'll be gone next year, off to college - it won't matter then. And if he makes her happy -"

"- then she clearly has a fucked up taste in men!" Johnny thought about ripping every single hair from his head in frustration. He couldn't believe Stéphane wasn't doing anything about this. "I thought you were better than this! I thought you had a better opinion of yourself than this! Don't you think you're worth anything?"

"Yes, I do." Stéphane glared. "Of course I do, but that doesn't mean I can force someone else to sacrifice their life for my sake, especially not my mom, who has already given up enough."

"Oh, fucking stop acting like you're all grown up," Johnny said derisively and flopped onto the bed, back turned to Stéphane, and pulled the cover over himself, pretending not to hear anymore.

"Someone has to make sure she's happy too," Stéphane muttered at him. "Wouldn't you do the same for your mum?"

And he did have a point, of course, but then, what ifs had always managed to piss Johnny off, so he didn't even deign the question with an answser. Instead, he waited until Stéphane had finished eating up his dinner - not too long, seemed like he wasn't all that hungry anymore - and found himself steaming quietly when he didn't cuddle close to Johnny but put as much space between them as he could without making one of them fall off the bed.

 

~*~

 

There was the next morning to consider, and all things that had happened aside, with the sun making the snow covering the windowsills outside glitter like diamonds and illuminating the room warmly, Johnny realized his bad mood had vaporized and left was just a slightly bitter aftertaste that - once again - they weren't on the same page where an issue of some importance was concerned.

"I wonder," he said quietly into the room, aware of the fact that Stéphane had awoken good five minutes ago when Johnny'd started moving and stretching, and that he was lying there, a little tense where his upper arm was brushing Johnny's. "Is it like that in all relationships, that there are just things people disagree on fundamentally and it makes the involved parties fight all the time about it and makes them miserable and ready to just give up?"

"You... want to give up?" Stéphane voice was small and horrified.

"No. No, I don't, gosh, of course not. I don't _want_ to, but sometimes, I just think that we're so different, and -"

"- we're two different people. It's not like we're in some sort of cult where everyone thinks exactly the same. That's always gonna create friction."

"But we have so much of it!" Johnny protested. "We're fighting so much about stuff! I didn't think it would be like that. I thought we'd be all happy all the time."

"You thought I'd give in to you all the time and adapt to your opinions?" Stéphane gave a little snort. "I guess you really picked the wrong person to be with, then. Look, I may not be quite as vocal about my opinions as you are, but I have them, all right? I have them, and I have good reasons for them. I'm not... well, I don't say that I can't change them, that they're rigid and that nothing can make me see things from another perspective, but you realize that other people have their own opinions out of a perfectly rational motive, don't you?"

"Yeah," Johnny said, a bit flustered. "I wasn't trying to make you change your opinion. I just don't understand how you can't see mine."

"I can see yours," Stéphane shook his head. "I just think it's not the right one. For me."

"Yeah." There was another bout of silence, then Johnny took a deep breath. "So what do we do? I mean - is there anything we can do, to settle this? Because I feel like I need to do something, and you feel like you don't, and if you say you're not forcing your opinion on me, that means that you can't tell me not to do anything."

Stéphane exhaled loudly. "You - you know, sometimes I really admire your casual reinterpretation of things so that they'll fit your action plan."

"What?" Johnny grinned. "I'm just saying!"

"If this was neutral ground, I'd agree with you. I wouldn't tell you what to do. But since this is my family we're talking about here - and yeah, I consider you part of my family, but Johnny, would you want me to tell your brother what to do? To tell your mother things about you that you consider private and that you don't want her to know?"

"No," Johnny said softly. "I wouldn't."

"So you see, this is my business and I prefer to do this my way. Don't get in the way, Johnny. Really, I mean it." Stéphane stared at him. "You don't want to fight with me about this again."

Johnny bit his lip and nodded. He knew when a battle was lost, in any case. Instead, he rolled to the side, on top of Stéphane, where there was a sunbeam right over his chest and he felt it across his back, warm and light and shivering, making him smile when their mouths merged.

It wouldn't do to be miserable, after all. So they wouldn't be, and get up a bit later instead, and have a nice morning, not thinking about any issues. Stéphane, it looked like, wasn't protesting this idea in the slightest, or the fact that Johnny's hands were a bit too quick all over his body, making him moan.

 

~*~

 

Having sex with Stéphane was a lot like figure skating - it took his breath away, and pretty much after the first time, Johnny was already hooked.

Unfortuantely for them, there weren't nearly enough opportunities to explore this little bit of additional happiness - there was Stéphane's room, which they used most often because there was a lesser possibility of anyone barging in on them in mid-stroke; more rarely, Johnny's room... and that was pretty much it, because as exciting as a stolen handjob in a toilet stall or in a changing cubicle in the mall sounded in theory, the reality was that it was dirty and unhygienic and the one time they tried, in a clothing shop downtown, Johnny couldn't stop giggling long enough for Stéphane to pull down his zipper and then Stéphane managed to slice open his finger and bled all over the floor and that made Johnny crack up even more.

It was a little frustrating to have permission now by the _other_ important party here, just to not have opportunity. And his mom was a little suspicious right now anyway, so he didn't dare to ask more than once a week whether he could stay over at Stéphane's place.

"This sucks," he proclaimed finally, a good week before Christmas, putting his material down on one of the tables scattered in the library where he was meeting Stéphane to study for their last exam of the year before they had a two-week vacation.

"Yeah," Stéphane mumbled into his fist, writing down a phrase. "I could have sworn Dalton's law of partial pressures was easier to understand, but now that I look at it... what is this anyway? _the pressure of a gas in a mixture equals the pressure it would exert if it occupied the same volume alone at the same temperature_... didn't we have an example for this one? I could have sworn -"

"I didn't mean chemistry," Johnny corrected him gently, moved his chair up close to Stéphane's and grabbed him by his neck, pulling him down. "I meant the fact that we have no place to go to so I can fuck you," he whispered into his ear.

Stéphane's cheek heated up immediatly. "That is really all you ever think about, isn't it?"

"No." Johnny blinked innocently. "Sometimes, I think about you fucking me."

"Didn't I know," Stéphane muttered. "You're crazy. We're supposed to be studying -"

"It's chemistry. We both aced the last exam with our eyes closed. It's not like she's making them extra hard so that nobody passes, and knowing our chem class, she'll have to dumb it down some more."

"Well, yes," Stéphane admitted. "But that doesn't really mean you can just -"

"Oh, come on. Sit down the evening beforehand, read through your stuff, mark the right answer in the multiple choice questions the next day and stop complaining. You'd much rather just fuck as well." Johnny grinned ferally.

"So what's the study date all about, then?" Stéphane asked. "You called specifically to meet in the library - oh. Oh, no, no, seriously, we're not doing that again - Johnny!"

"C'mon." Johnny grinned. "It was fun. And anyway, it's not like we did a lot last time. We kissed a bit. Nobody saw. It's perfectly safe. It's one week before Christmas, no way are people going to spend their time in libraries."

"Johnny! It's not the point. The point is that it's a public place and that there are books, which are easily stained -"

Johnny's grin grew wider. "Now, see, I wasn't even thinking that far. But now that you mention it - yeah." He grasped Stéphane's hand and pulled him up, bags forgotten at their table as Johnny shoved him towards the Medieval Arts section.

"This is just so weird," Stéphane complained, staring at a book with a cover of a portrait of Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus in her arms. Then his gaze wandered back over to Johnny, who was leaning against the shelf, stared at the way his jeans hung lowly on his hips, exposing a tiny bit of stomach where the shirt had slipped up and Johnny could practically see him melt on the spot.

"You'll get over it," he assured him, just in case, and attacked his mouth.

There was tongue involved rather more quickly than the last time (section of pre-christian Roman history, maybe?), just a split second after Stéphane's mouth opened beneath his own and he licked over his lower lip before slipping inside, tasting the warmth and wetness and then Stéphane's tongue against his own.

Stéphane pulled back a little then. "This isn't really -"

"- appropriate, I know, let's not discuss this now?" Johnny growled, impatient. "I'm a little bothered here."

"You're a little bothered everywhere," Stéphane sniped back.

Johnny rolled his eyes, grabbed Stéphane's hand and forced it between their tightly fitted bodies, pressing it flat against the groin of his jeans, and kissed him once, chastely, before asking, "You're feeling that, right?" He kissed again, just a peck, "and now imagine being like that for hours already! You're not gonna let me die here, are you?"

Stéphane moved his hand a bit, shifted his whole body and Johnny gave a needy little moan.

"Damn," Stéphane cursed. "Damn, damn, damn, you're a fucking asshole for making me do this, you know exactly that I can't say no to you -"

"Please?"

Stéphane's breath hitched when Johnny moved his hips against his hand, rocking into his grip. "Fuck," he said, slumping, and his stomach flipped when he thought of working his hand past the material between him and Johnny's cock. "Shit, this is so bad."

Johnny bit his lower lip, licked over it, said, "Less talking, more fucking," before he pulled Stéphane close again by placing his hands on his ass and dragging him forward.

They were joined at the mouth again after that, making out like world champions at a marathon, while Stéphane, not quite coordinated, attempted to pull Johnny's jeans open, once unsuccessfully before they gave and there was only boxershorts left to conquer.

Johnny could feel Stéphane hard against himself, could feel him as he panted and fucked Johnny's mouth just a bit too harshly - punishment, Johnny thought amused, for once again breaking the no-public-fucking rule. Not that forceful, almost cruel kissing was really a punishment, since Stéphane wasn't going to bite him hard enough to hurt. He kissed back as enthusiastically as he was being kissed, felt his cock twinge in pleasure against Stéphane's strong fingers.

And then they were skin on skin, finally, and he was warm and hard and Stéphane's touch was delicate like a feather at first before he grew fearless, swiped his thumb over the head and pulled, fingers tight and firm, making Johnny rock into him and buckle wildly. Johnny felt like he was going to keel backwards any moment now, that the shelf at his back was going to give against the strong pressure and leave them both scrambling for cover.

He wished, for a second, that Stéphane would just finally get down on his knees and suck him off, that he'd put his mouth where his hand was, hot and wet, with the clever tongue that was working inside Johnny's mouth on Johnny's dick instead, and that mental image was pretty much what did him in, sent him reeling and gasping, coming with shallow pants for air.

"Oh, oh, oh, fuck," he gasped, and gasped, and muttered, because Stéphane had let go of his lips, puffy and pink and was staring at him intently, almost as if just watching Johnny come all over his hand could be enough to reach orgasm himself.

"Fuck," Johnny repeated, squeezing his eyes shut.

"That was hot," Stéphane mumbled, touching Johnny's jaw before he smashed their lips together once more. When he let off, his hand also left Johnny's cock, and then his underwear, a bit sticky. It didn't seem to bother Stéphane, who was frowning, watching Johnny's eyes, almost too close. "You're... you look so vulnerable when you come. You _never_... you always try not to, but when you come, it's like -"

Johnny snorted, licked his lips quickly, fighting the embarrassment the words caused. "Well, seeing as you haven't yet, I'd say..." he hooked his thumbs in Stéphane's jeans and forced him close. "It's your turn."

Stéphane swallowed, but then, he shook his head slowly. "Not here. I don't think I - I mean, I guess I could, if you went for it, but I don't want to, all right? Can we go home? Ugh, I need a tissue or something..."

"There's a men's room at the back," Johnny mumbled, feeling a bit guilty all of a sudden. When Stéphane turned to go, he said, "Hey, I didn't mean to make you feel weird. I'm sorry, I thought it would be nice -"

"It's okay." Stéphane smiled. "It was nice."

"But you don't -"

"It's fine. Really." The smile grew wider. "I'm not the one with a strange exhibitionistic kink. We can finish this when we're back at my place. It's not a big deal. I can wait ten more minutes."

"So you're... not mad?"

Stéphane shook his head. "But don't... not too often. And not in... not where it might have serious consequences? I don't think I could live down the police visiting my mom about _those_ kind of charges."

Johnny felt himself blush. "Neither could I. Sorry. I didn't think -"

"Yeah." Stéphane laughed. "Obviously." He waved and vanished towards the men's room.

Johnny watched him go, then fell back against the shelf and sighed, eyes half-closed. Damn, now he was feeling all lazy. No way was he getting any studying done today. And neither was, he thought with a hint of compunction, Stéphane. Oh well. There was still time.

And maybe Stéphane would let it go anyway and they could fuck some more. That would be nice.

 

~*~

 

Evan looked almost sorry for him.

"So now we're just kind of... floating in space, neither of us doing nothing." Johnny sighed, tying his skates as tight as possible. "I can't believe he told me off like that. In that tone of voice. _'You don't want to fight me about this again.'_ I don't get it. I don't get him. Sometimes."

"I have no idea what to tell you, except to not fight him about it again. He seems to be very serious about you not interfering again. You should be careful with that."

Johnny glared, getting up. "I know he's serious about it. I just don't like it, that's all."

"I gathered as much." Evan shrugged. "C'mon, Johnny, let's skate, not talk about your failed relationship. I can barely help you with the one, the other goes completely over my head."

"It's not failed."

Evan gave him a look. Finally, he shrugged. "Whatever."

"It's not!"

"Okay."

"Damnit. I don't think I want to talk about this anymore."

Evan blinked. "Okay. So... uh, how about we try skating instead?"

Johnny nodded, got onto the ice, grabbed Evan's hand and pulled him along. "Sometimes, you're an ass." He grinned despite himself.

"Yes," Evan grinned back. "That doesn't mean I'm not right, though."

"I guess not."

Evan nodded. They didn't talk much after that, they just skated, but sometimes, Johnny still thought that Evan touched him a little more than was strictly necessary. Not that he minded.

 

~*~

 

Christmas was a bigger festivity than most other festivities including Easter and birthdays, which was why Johnny's extended family met every year in one house or another to celebrate it. It was only Christmas Eve that Johnny spent solely with his parents and Brian, which was much nicer, or so he thought, and had a much more Christmas-y feeling about it than Christmas Day itself. He didn't much like his extended family aside from a few cousins who could be fun if they were in the right mood.

They were stationed at an aunt's house this year, so Johnny couldn't even retreat into his own room and chat with someone on the computer. He held out till early evening, which was already an accomplishment all by itself, then grabbed the phone off the hook and tip-toed through the house until he found a room that was probably his aunt's bedroom and slinked inside, quietly closing the door behind himself. He found the key to the lock on the doorframe above the door, and made sure it was properly shut.

The sounds from the house seemed so much further away suddenly, the voices and laughter from the living room, the music and his smaller cousins screaming over each other about their toys. Johnny took a deep breath and went over to the double bed, sitting down on the edge.

Who was he supposed to call, anyway, he then considered. He didn't have that many friends, and Stéphane would be with his family, maybe, and not wanting to be bothered. On the other hand, maybe he'd fled from all of them already as well, just like Johnny, and was just waiting for the rescue. It was worth a shot.

He called Stéphane's home first and let it ring ten times, fifteen, before he hung up again. Huh. Nobody was home. That was unusual. Johnny frowned, but he did know Stéphane's cell number by heart and it wasn't his phone bill to pay anyway. He grinned. Footing his cell calls was the least his aunt could do for him after subjecting him to a day of getting his ass pinched by his great-aunt Mildred.

It rang four times, then he heard someone pick up. Stéphane's voice was quiet. "Yeah?"

"Hey baby," Johnny smiled. "How are you?"

"Oh, Johnny." Something in Stéphane's voice untensed. "How - why are you calling? Or wait - let me just -" There were a few seconds of silence and Johnny could hear Stéphane on the other end say, "Excuse me, I'm going to go outside for a minute, reception is horrible in here," and then, a door closing before he said, "Okay, this is better. Wow, it's cold out here."

"Are you outside?" Johnny frowned. "Where are you? You guys never go out on Christmas Day!"

"We didn't until now," Stéphane deadpanned. "Oh, fuck it. The important thing is that you got me out of there. God." He sounded exhausted.

"Oh." Johnny bit his lip. "Yeah, it sucks here too. My family's mad. Aunt Mildred keeps feeling me up. The cousins keep screeching and Brian's egging them on, making them re-enact a few sequences from Fight Club. The fact that I know what Fight Club is should tell you more than anything how I'm suffering."

Stéphane laughed brightly. "That's cute."

"It's not. They're devil spawn, they are."

"Tell your aunt to keep her hands off my ass," Stéphane grinned.

"I probably should. Or next time, you can make a label and write 'Property of Stéphane Lambiel' on it. That would go over well."

"I'm sure. Dude, I'm glad you're calling."

"Me too." Johnny smiled. "You up to meeting tomorrow?"

"Sure. Let's do. Where do you wanna meet? Want me to come over?"

"If you want."

"Not a problem. You kept to our agreement, right?"

"What's that?" Johnny asked.

"Johnny -"

"Yeah, yeah, I didn't get you anything. Much."

"Johnny!"

"C'mon, you can't expect me not to buy you stuff. For Christmas. It wasn't expensive. It's very cute and you'll like it."

Stéphane sighed. "And you'll do what you want anyway."

"Yep." Johnny leaned back upon the bed and ran his free hand through his hair. "Damn, I wish I could spend Christmas Day with just my parents, and maybe Brian. Or just you. In bed, preferably. Licking you all over."

"Stop it," Stéphane whispered. "You can't do that there."

"Do what?" Johnny grinned at the ceiling. The cover of the bed was smooth and soft beneath his back, and the mattress dipped below his feet and his ass.

"You know exactly what."

"No. Not a clue. However, I might be running my hand down my chest right now, and slip it under my posh white shirt to touch my chest, over my nipples -"

"- oh fuck, you don't. Where _are_ you?"

"My aunt's bedroom. I think." Johnny smirked. "On her bed. It has... rose-pattern on the covers. And the pillows. It matches the carpet perfectly. I wonder... if I come on her sheets, do you think she'll -"

"Johnny! You can't - how can you even _think_ of doing that, in another person's bedroom! What if someone comes in while you're - while we're -"

"That's part of the fun," Johnny grinned. "We might get caught - or not. I think not. So what do you think - am I hard already from imagining your mouth on my cock?"

A click later, the line was dead. Johnny felt like pouting, but then, he broke out in laughter and the day seemed so much better suddenly.

 

~*~

 

Stéphane came over the next day despite being a little huffy about the attempt at phone sex which he was still too skittish to talk about. Not in public, at least. The prude. Johnny grinned.

All thoughts about phone sex flew out of his mind, however, when Stéphane tilted the huge basket he was holding a little bit as they kissed on the doorstep, wet and messy and way too intense for a hello-kiss anyway. A short yelp echoed through the air, and then, the blanket on top rustled and a head popped out from underneath.

"Oh my _God_ , you didn't!" Johnny squealed, mouth open in delight. "You did _not_!"

"Uh, Johnny. Meet your new puppy. Puppy - this is Johnny." Stéphane grinned sheepishly.

"Gimme! Gimme, oh my, he's so cute, is it a he? And how old is he, where did you get him, he is adorable, please, can I hold him, look at his cutesy ears, I love him! Mom! Stéphane got me a puppy!"

Two minutes later, Johnny was sitting on his seat in the kitchen, puppy on his lap, and they were giving the mom the same teary-eyed look of please-please-please out of their huge, brown eyes. "I can keep him, right?" Johnny asked, at the same time as the puppy gave a yelp that most probably - or so Johnny insisted - meant, "He can keep me, right?"

Stéphane snorted from the kitchen entrance. "You don't honestly think I'd try giving you a puppy without asking your parents first, do you?"

Johnny's head turned. "Wha-?" Then he swivveled around back to glare at his mom and dad, who were both grinning into their cups of coffee. "You knew!"

The puppy jumped on the table, barking offended.

 

~*~

 

It took Johnny a few hours to come down from the high that playing with his very own puppy had given him. The little one was clever and he already knew how to give people the begging eyes so that they'd give him treats.

"He's just like you," Brian cackled in between watching the dog and talking with Stéphane while Johnny played with it.

"Of course," Johnny gave him the patented 'how much of a moron are you, really?' look. "He's smart, talented and obviously, exceptionally good-looking."

Brian broke out into guffaws again.

But it wasn't until Johnny pulled Stéphane onto his bed and proceeded to kiss the air out of his lungs that Stéphane finally said, "You haven't named it yet."

"That issue needs to be given some thought. I had no time to prepare. Real parents have months to prepare a name for their baby. Why didn't you tell me, you asshole, you should have told me!"

Stéphane gave him a look. "I wasn't _pregnant_."

"But he's our baby now!"

Stéphane snorted. "Oooookay."

"Don't make fun of me. He's going to have a beautiful name, as soon as I come up with one. Until then, I'd like to fuck you now." Johnny smiled. "I even locked the door."

Stéphane gave him a speculative look. "The baby is sleeping a few feet away from the bed," he finally said.

"The baby'll keep sleeping, it's exhausted from the long day. And the parents need to have some hot, sweaty sex now, possibly with the one or other blowjob involved. Yes or yes?"

Stéphane made a show of thinking about it. Johnny just climbed on top of him and kissed him, rubbing their groins together. His cock was already half-hard just thinking about it, and obviously, the thought didn't leave Stéphane completely cold. Quite the opposite, his breathing was laboured and he put his hand on the back of Johnny's neck, pulling him down into another tongue-entwining kiss.

"Love you," Johnny mumbled, rocking his hips foward. "Seriously. Best. Present. Just thinking about it makes me want to lick you all over, makes me want to just open you up and fuck you until you scream, love you so much."

Stéphane shivered underneath him, meeting his thrusts. "Clothes off, then," he said and added, "I'm happy you like him."

"Love him. He's the most beautiful puppy I've ever seen." Johnny's fingers made short work of Stéphane's shirt, pulling it above his head, and dipped his head to lick at his collarbone. "Can I?" he whispered into the skin, licking his way down his ribs towards his stomach, around his navel.

"I - yeah." Stéphane arched his back, moaned when Johnny started picking at his jeans button, lowered his zipper and shoved the pants down along with his underwear to his thighs. "But only if you really want to. And be careful."

"Always," Johnny nodded, serious, touched his cock with his fingers, closing his palm around it, watching wide-eyed as Stéphane sucked in his breath at the sensation and swore, frown deepening on his forehead in concentration.

"You're close," he said in awe.

"You're about to give me head," Stéphane hissed. "Of course my imagination'll be running wild."

"Real thing's better," Johnny smirked and his hand found the front of his own pants and opened them, sliding inside his underwear to jerk himself off. There was a heat collecting around them in particles, and the scent of Stéphane's skin mingling with the scent of sex and Johnny's own and his bedsheets. He lowered himself further down and finally licked at the head, making Stéphane almost kick him in the chin as he jumped.

"Ouch!" Johnny glared.

"Sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Stéphane got up onto his elbows, peering down at him, embarrassed. "Took me by surprise."

"Try not to move too much," Johnny rolled his eyes. "I don't want to get out of here with a black eye and a tooth missing."

"Not that it would make you look any less beautiful," Stéphane grinned.

"Watch it," Johnny glared. "If you keep the sarcasm up, there'll be no blow-jobs for you."

Stéphane smiled his dazzling smile. He lost it quickly enough when Johnny rolled his eyes and went back down to replace his hand with his mouth, licking up the underside of Stéphane's cock. It tasted different. Not quite what he'd expected, not quite like the rest of Stéphane's skin, but not really bad either. He liked the heavy feeling on his tongue, the way it made him realize the shudder that just went from Stéphane's toes to his fingertips, that was caused by a single lick.

He wasn't sure what else to do, or if he'd be able to keep it up for long, so he took the head in his mouth and sucked a bit, tried swirling his tongue, almost choked to death when he took it in deeper.

"Shit, don't do that," Stéphane hissed, trying very hard not to buck up into his mouth and force it. His knuckles were white where they were clenched in Johnny's bedsheets, close to ripping them with pure despair. "Are you okay?" he added when Johnny let go of him with a small popping sound and took a deep breath, coughing.

"Fine," Johnny replied, embarrassed. "Just a sec."

"You don't have to -"

"- it's fine!" Johnny snapped, moving up to his face to kiss him, hard and bruising, forgetting the tinge of pain lingering in his throat.

Stéphane moaned against his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, let Johnny's tongue in and Johnny could feel him tense, almost in anticipation, so Johnny gave him one last peck before he kissed his nose lightly and went to try again. It went better this time, easier to just keep working with his tongue anyway, and he'd dropped jerking himself off, even though he was hard enough that he was ready to come just from having Stéphane's cock in his mouth and hearing the little gasping sounds he made whenever he was close. He touched the base of Stéphane's cock with his hand, then moved to cup his balls and then it was over and Stéphane was coming into his mouth, his back arching off Johnny's bed. It was obvious that he was working very hard not to be too loud about it.

It tasted fine, Johnny thought as he swallowed, didn't catch everything and felt some spill over his lips. It was a little bit disgusting, too, like eating raw egg, maybe, except apparently, not disgusting enough to make his hard-on go away. Stéphane was still staring at him, glassy eyes and unable he believe he'd just come in Johnny's mouth.

"You didn't just - you didn't - that is _gross_ , did you just eat my come?" Stéphane finally snorted. Apparently, he wasn't quite as out of it as Johnny'd thought.

Johnny ran the back of his hand over his mouth and grimaced. "Don't be an ass, it's common courtesy." He wasn't so sure about that, but he thought he sounded quite convincing, himself.

"Common, is it?" Stéphane laughed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to lie beside him, cuddling up to Johnny's still clothed chest. "Eaten lots of it, have you?"

Johnny punched his shoulder. "That _was_ gross." But he didn't make any more comments, just held Stéphane's face as he planted his lips onto Stéphane's and pushed his tongue into his mouth, forceful and dramatic and just that little bit mean. Stéphane didn't struggle, let him, and Johnny counted in his head one, two seconds until the exact moment Stéphane realized just what the taste was. Then he let go with a loud gasp.

Stéphane laughed. "You're such a bitch."

"Hm-hm." Johnny grinned, satisfied, licking his lips. "But a little bit sexy."

"A little bit."

"Can you -?" Johnny took Stéphane's hand and put it on the front of his pants. Stéphane didn't need asking twice, slid his hand into Johnny's underwear and slowly, languidly jerked him off, kissing him again, no fear or disgust on his face, just the flicker of his tongue against Johnny's. Johnny relaxed, keened and came soon after, his whole body rocking with spasms of pleasure.

 

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been notified that events such as the one described in this chapter aren't the norm in the US. Apologies. Imagine it's an... alternate universe, in which they are :)

Johnny would have liked to spend New Year's Eve at some cool kids' party downtown, except he was still very much underage, and Stéphane even more so, which meant they ended up going to the lame Seniors Party that the school organized every year. There were a few cool people in their grade, so it wasn't all bad, but still, there would be no alcohol, just some punch and later, a big firework from the basketball court that everyone would be watching. The party started at ten, so Stéphane was there to pick him up by half past nine, wearing his thick jacket and jeans. Johnny had broken out the leather pants again.

Stéphane grinned at the sight. "You trying to give people a heart-attack with that?" he teased.

"You'll see, everyone's going to be after my ass after tonight."

"Even the football players?"

"Especially the football players," Johnny grinned. "Not to mention the hockey team, the basketball team and probably the baseball team as well, even though most of them are ugly. And don't forget the girls. They'll be fawning all over me."

"Time of your life," Stéphane poked and grinned. "C'mon, mom's driving us, even though it's only a fifteen minutes walk. We'll have to get home by ourselves, though."

Johnny yelled, "We're going, mom! See you tomorrow!" and closed the door behind himself. Then he met Stéphane's gaze. "We are doing the whole overnight thing today, right?"

Stéphane nodded. "Asked the mother, it's fine with her." His face fell a little. "She's got her own company keeping her happy tonight."

Johnny grimaced. "That is so more information about your mom's sex life than I ever wanted to know."

Stéphane shrugged.

They got into the car, Stéphane in the front, Johnny in the back, closing the door with an unison snap. "Hey Johnny," Mrs. Lambiel said with a smile. "How's things?"

"Great, thank you. My mom sends her wishes, too. Happy New Year and all that."

"Oh, that's nice. I should send her some of my latest pastries again, she seemed to enjoy the last bag, Stéphane told me?"

"They were great, yeah. My dad loved 'em. Practically ate them all by himself." Johnny grinned. "Thanks again for those, by the way. And he says if you ever have any leftovers with the vanilla pudding, you should definitely not keep them all to yourself." He saw Stéphane's mom grin in the rearview mirror and blew him a kiss when Stéphane turned his head and gave him a sweet smile.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"How's the rest of the family?" Johnny asked politely.

"Well, Kennedy's working a lot lately, but he's coming over tonight -"

"- Stéphane told me, yeah."

"Yes. And Sylvie and Chris are out with friends. Still, try to be quiet when you come home late? We'll probably go to bed at some point, so we might be asleep already." Mrs. Lambiel gave Stéphane a look. "And you, behave."

"I always behave," Stéphane muttered.

Johnny bit his lip. Still strained, then. He figured he might have guessed. Half a minute later, the car stopped in front of the school entrance and they got out of the car, Stéphane wordless, Johnny wishing Mrs. Lambiel a nice evening.

"What now?" he then added as she drove away.

Stéphane shrugged. "Let's go check out the big event. After all, since the girls have gone through so much trouble to decorate and organize, it'll be nice. I guess?"

They encountered Jessie and Janice, the twins in their grade, by the entrance, and the two girls waved and smiled, a few of the boys were standing by the stairs, talking. Johnny greeted them with a nod, Stéphane with a smile.

"Hey, guys," one of them, Murray, said. "Didn't expect you to turn up."

William grinned. "Nice pants, Johnny."

"Like my ass in them?" Johnny waggled his eyebrows.

"Very nice," a girl's voice behind them proclaimed and slapped the back of his head. "But you knew that already."

"Hey Cherish," Murray grinned. "Wow, didn't expect _you_ to turn up, either."

Cherish frowned. "And why, m'dear, would that be?"

Samuel shrugged at her. "We got told that none of the jocks nor the cheerleaders would be here. Only reason _we_ decided not to host a private party for the nerds and come here instead. Nothing like a party where you don't get spit on by the occasional brawn, right?"

Johnny snorted.

Cherish smiled. "Oh, no, you're right, they've all decided to get stupid tonight. Someone got a bunch of fake IDs and they're hitting the clubs." Her smile grew feral. "Before you ask, the only reason I'm not there? Because I know someone who knows someone who knows a police guy who said the town'll be swarming tonight and everyone who gets caught with fake IDs or underage gets locked up. Happy New Year, guys." She twirled around, waved her fingers at them and proceeded up the stairs, grinning, red lipstick perfect against her lily-white skin.

"There's a girl," Murray sighed dreamily.

Johnny snorted.

"Shut up," William grinned. "He's in love. Give the boy a break."

Stéphane smiled. Johnny glanced at him and was glad to see that the tension was gone from his body as well. On second note, he thought, this might actually turn out to be quite the cool party. No jocks, no cheerleaders, the nerds taking over the place and if girls like Cherish had organized the whole thing, all bets were off.

"How about some punch," Samuel proposed and flicked his thumb towards the upper floor where the party was hosted, just as the door opened again a few more kids from their grade snuck in, all looking a little excited and nervous.

"Sounds great," Johnny nodded and they all made their way upstairs.

 

~*~

 

Of course, they shouldn't have expected this to go without alcohol, even though it was on school grounds and most of the people here weren't exactly prime examples for breaking the rules. It was a nice party, there were pretty banners and a buffet along one wall with food and drinks, and music was playing loudly as people danced on the improvised dance floor. There were colorful lights and everyone was talking, joking, laughing and having fun. The fact that the punch was spiked was just the added extra, it didn't make anyone go overboard.

It was well after eleven when Stéphane found Johnny chatting with Evan by the buffet near the potato chips, crunching away happily. He'd been dancing with some of the girls - Johnny'd been watching him out of the corner of his eyes and he was seriously hot when he did those hip moves he exceeded at.

"So, you finally got enough of the dancing?" he grinned and slipped his hand to the back of Stéphane's neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

Stéphane smiled into it, then broke free and said, "Nope."

Evan coughed. "Guys."

"Mh-mh, what?" Johnny glanced over. "Got a problem?"

"No." Evan sighed. "No, I don't. I just don't want you to get into trouble."

Stéphane nodded. "It's okay. We can just -"

"No." Johnny shrugged. "I don't care. I'm here to have fun, and if I want to kiss my boyfriend, I'll kiss my fucking boyfriend. Anyway, all the small-minded morons are probably in jail right now. So."

"Maybe Evan's right -" Stéphane said, hesitanting.

Evan gave him a smile. Stéphane smiled back carefully, then, when he realized Evan was being sincere, he dropped the attitude and the smile grew warmer.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you guys bond, um, how about we all look back to me now?" Johnny raised his eyebrows. "You know? The hot one here?"

Stéphane snorted. "Shut up."

"No, seriously." Johnny grinned, turned to Evan. "Now, if you had to choose who's hotter of the two of us, you'd go for me, right? Like, obviously. I mean - it's not that Stéphane's not hot, it's just that I'm me."

Evan looked like he would have very much liked to flee the scene. "I'm not answering that," he said instead. "I'm not rating either of your hotness."

"So I win," Johnny nodded. "Anyway, I'm going to go find Cherish and Amanda and maybe Katherine, and ask them if they mind a couple gay boys having fun too. Just so we don't spoil their party. And if they say they don't mind, we're so dancing." He pointed at Stéphane.

Stéphane threw up his hands. "Fine. Whatever."

When Johnny vanished into the crowd, Evan started snickering. "You're so going to have to tango with him to get him to shut up."

Stéphane slowly turned to him, eyed him up from head to toe, then a huge, slow smile spread over his face. "I think I have a better idea."

 

~*~

 

They were both a little bit drunk and high on laughter when they stumbled into Stéphane's house, key clinking loudly. It had taken them a while to unlock the front door.

"I still cannot believe he agreed to tango with you," Johnny burst out as the door closed.

Stéphane shushed him. "Would you stop repeating that over and over again?"

"It's because I cannot believe he actually agreed to _tango_ with you!"

"Johnny! My mom's gonna kill us if we're loud. Come _on_!"

They stumbled up the stairs and into Stéphane's room, where they closed the door after themselves with a louder snap than intended. Johnny keeled over onto the bed, chuckling. "I cannot believe -"

"- you said that already." Stéphane interrupted him. "Please. Can we just drop it?"

"But! Evan!" Johnny pulled off his right shoe and it hit the wall with a thud. He winced. Then his eyes brightened. "Wait! I didn't - who was leading? Was he leading? Where _you_ leading? And you never said how you managed to get them to play a tango!"

Stéphane rolled his eyes, took off both his shoes, pulled his shirt over his head quickly and then climbed onto his bed and onto Johnny, who didn't protest, just made a little sound that sounded almost like, "I give up."

"Would you drop it?"

"No." Johnny snickered. "It'll be the talk of the school for months!"

Stéphane inched close to his face and said, "I really hope not. Look, just - it was fun, and it was just for tonight. But seriously, this might make a lot of trouble for us if it doesn't stay in Vegas, so to speak."

"Okay, fine." Johnny smiled, eyes bright. "Hey, Stéphane?"

Stéphane ran his fingers through Johnny's hair, pulling it back from his forehead before he placed a gentle kiss there. "What?"

"Are you gonna fuck me now?"

"Hm-hm. Maybe." Stéphane smiled back. "If we're not too tired."

"No." Johnny's pupils dilated. "I mean, like, really fuck me. Like - with you coming inside me. I want to feel that. I want to feel you. In me. I think. Think I'm ready for that."

Stéphane kissed his lips. "Shush, look, we don't need to do that today. Let's just -"

"- but I want!"

"I know. I don't think it's a good idea today. We'll -"

"I want!" Johnny repeated, pulling him into a kiss. "I want you to fuck me. All - all of you. Please?"

"I don't think -"

"I'm ready!"

"You're drunk."

"I'm not."

"But I am," Stéphane said sharply. "I don't want - I want it to be memorable. I want every - last - second - with you. Every single time we have sex. Every time we do something new. I want everything to be memorable. That excludes a quick fuck at four in the morning coming back from a Senior party."

Johnny turned his head to the side.

"I'm sorry," Stéphane sighed. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Johnny didn't say anything.

"Johnny? Hey. I'm sorry, I was just - oh, no, no, you didn't!" Stéphane stared, incredulous, before he gave up and lowered his body on top of Johnny's and closed his eyes, burying his face in Johnny's neck. "And you wanted to fuck," he snorted.

Johnny gave a little snore and fell silent, breathing evening out.

At least, Stéphane considered, the year had ended and started with a sweet kiss underneath a shower of colorful fireworks. He snuggled up to Johnny's body and closed his eyes as well. That would have to be enough to bring them some luck for the next twelve months.

 

~*~


End file.
